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/ 


FRANK R. STOCKTON 

Volume VI 

f f THE GREAT WAR 
SYNDICATE, ETC. f f 







tatatro WVU <»ok <ta*0 ^T 

' ' .$urc^ wcm tX\ m 

.AAA2ZU5V ftATAKSW s> wo't'A 


The Crab now backed, still holding the crushed propeller 
in its iron grasp. * ’ 

From a drawing by WALTER RUSSELL. 


THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF 
FRANK R. STOCKTON 

* * THE GREAT WAR 
SYNDICATE, ETC. ¥ ¥ 



jr : NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
• r ‘ * 1900 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 

Library of Congress 
Office o f thfe 

JAN 2?, 1900 




Register of Copyrights 



Copyright, 1889, by P. F. Collier; 1889, by Dodd, Mead & Co. ; 
1893, 1900, by Charles Scribner’s Sons 



\ -V'i'S 
\».\ 1 00 . 


THE DEVINNE PRESS. 


CONTENTS 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE ... 3 

THE STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 131 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY . 243 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY— in Two Expositions 
First Exposition : A Story of Seven Devils . 267 
Second Exposition : Grandison’s Quandary . 278 



THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 



THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


I N the spring of a certain year, not far from the close 
of the nineteenth century, when the political re- 
lations between the United States and Great Britain 
became so strained that careful observers on both sides 
of the Atlantic were forced to the belief that a serious 
break in these relations might be looked for at any 
time, the fishing-schooner Eliza Drum sailed from a 
port in Maine for the banks of Newfoundland 

It was in this year that a new system of protection 
for American fishing-vessels had been adopted in 
Washington. Every fleet of these vessels was accom- 
panied by one or more United States cruisers, which 
remained on the fishing-grounds, not only for the pur- 
pose of warning unwary American craft who might 
approach too near the three-mile limit, but also to 
overlook the action of the British naval vessels on the 
coast, and to interfere, at least by protest, with such 
seizures of American fishing-boats as might appear to 
be unjust. In the opinion of all persons of sober judg- 
ment, there was nothing in the condition of affairs at 
this time so dangerous to the peace of the two coun- 
tries as the presence of these American cruisers in the 
fishing-waters. 


3 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The Eliza Drum was late in her arrival on the fish- 
ing-grounds, and having, under orders from Washing- 
ton, reported to the commander of the Lennehaha, the 
United States vessel in charge at that place, her cap- 
tain and crew went vigorously to work to make up 
for lost time. They worked so vigorously, and with 
eyes so single to the catching of fish, that, on the 
morning of the day after their arrival, they were 
hauling up cod at a point which, according to the 
nationality of the calculator, might be two and three 
quarters or three and one quarter miles from the 
Canadian coast. 

In consequence of this inattention to the apparent 
extent of the marine mile, the Eliza Drum , a little 
before noon, was overhauled and seized by the British 
cruiser Dog-Star f A few miles away, the Lennehaha 
had perceived the dangerous position of the Eliza 
Drum , and had started toward her to warn her to take 
a less doubtful position. But, before she arrived, the 
capture had taken place. When he reached the spot 
where the Eliza Drum had been fishing, the commander 
of the Lennehaha made an observation of the dis- 
tance from the shore, and calculated it to be more 
than three miles. When he sent an officer in a boat 
to the Dog-Star to state the result of his computations, 
the captain of the British vessel replied that he was 
satisfied the distance was less than three miles, and 
that he was now about to take the Eliza Drum into 
port. 

On receiving this information, the commander of the 
Lennehaha steamed closer to the Dog-Star , and informed 
her captain, by means of a speaking-trumpet, that 
if he took the Eliza Drum into a Canadian port, he 
4 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


would first have to sail over his ship. To this the 
captain of the Dog-Star replied that he did not in the 
least object to sailing over the Lennehaha , and pro- 
ceeded to put a prize crew on board the fishing-vessel. 

At this j uncture the captain of the Eliza Drum ran up 
a large American flag. In five minutes afterwards the 
captain of the prize crew hauled it down. In less than 
ten minutes after this the Lennehaha and the Dog-Star 
were blazing at each other with their bow guns. The 
spark had been struck. 

The contest was not a long one. The Dog-Star was 
of much greater tonnage and heavier armament than 
her antagonist, and early in the afternoon she steamed 
for St. John’s, taking with her as prizes both the Eliza 
Drum and the Lennehaha. 

All that night, at every point in the United States 
which was reached by telegraph, there burnt a smo- 
thered fire, and the next morning, when the regu- 
lar and extra editions of the newspapers were poured 
out upon the land, the fire burst into a roaring blaze. 
From lakes to gulf, from ocean to ocean, on mountain 
and plain, in city and prairie, it roared and blazed. 
Parties, sections, politics, were all forgotten. Every 
American formed part of an electric system— the same 
fire flashed into every soul. No matter what might 
be thought on the morrow, or in the coming days 
which might bring better understanding, this day the 
unreasoning fire blazed and roared. 

With morning newspapers in their hands, men 
rushed from the breakfast-tables into the streets to 
meet their fellow-men. What was it that they should 
do? 

Detailed accounts of the affair came rapidly, but 
5 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


there was nothing in them to quiet the national indig- 
nation. The American flag had been hauled down by 
Englishmen, an American naval vessel had been fired 
into and captured. That was enough ! No matter 
whether the Eliza Drum was within the three-mile 
limit or not ! No matter which vessel fired first ! If 
it were the Lennehaha , the more honor to her — she 
ought to have done it ! From platform, pulpit, stump, 
and editorial office came one vehement, passionate 
shout directed toward Washington. 

Congress was in session, and in its halls the fire roared 
louder and blazed higher than on mountain or plain, 
in city or prairie* No member of the government, 
from President to page, ventured to oppose the tem- 
pestuous demands of the people. The day for argu- 
ment upon the exciting question had been a long and 
weary one, and it had gone by. In less than a week 
the great shout of the people was answered by a dec- 
laration of war against Great Britain. 

When this had been done, those who demanded war 
breathed easier, but those who must direct the war 
breathed harder. 

It was, indeed, a time for hard breathing, but the 
great mass of the people perceived no reason why this 
should be. Money there was in vast abundance. In 
every State well- drilled men, by thousands, stood 
ready for the word to march, and the military experi- 
ence and knowledge given by a great war was yet 
strong upon the nation. 

To the people at large the plan of the war appeared 
a very obvious and a very simple one. Canada had 
given the offence : Canada should be made to pay the 
penalty. In a very short time, one hundred thousand, 

6 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


two hundred thousand, five hundred thousand men, if 
necessary, could be made ready for the invasion of 
Canada. From platform, pulpit, stump, and editorial 
office came the cry, “On to Canada ! ” 

At the seat of government, however, the plan of the 
war did not appear so obvious, so simple. Throwing 
a great army into Canada was all well enough, and 
that army would probably do well enough. But the 
question which produced hard breathing in the execu- 
tive branch of the government was the immediate 
protection of the sea-coast, Atlantic, Gulf, and even 
Pacific. 

In a storm of national indignation, war had been 
declared against a power which, at this period of her 
history, had brought up her naval forces to a point 
double in strength to that of any other country in 
the world. And this war had been declared by a 
nation which, comparatively speaking, possessed no 
naval strength at all. 

For some years the United States navy had been 
steadily improving, but this improvement was not 
sufficient to make it worthy of reliance at this crisis. 
As has been said, there was money enough, and every 
shipyard in the country could be set to work to build 
iron-clad men-of-war, but it takes a long time to build 
ships, and England’s navy was afloat. It was the Brit- 
ish keel that America had to fear. 

By means of the Continental cables, it was known 
that many of the largest mail-vessels of the British 
transatlantic lines, which had been withdrawn upon 
the declaration of war, were preparing in British ports 
to transport troops to Canada. It was not impossible 
that these great steamers might land an army in Canada 
7 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

before an American army could, be organized and 
marcbed to that province. It might be that the 
United States would be forced to defend her borders, 
instead of invading those of the enemy. 

In every fort and navy-yard all was activity. The 
hammering of iron went on by day and by night. But 
what was to be done when the great ironclads of Eng- 
land hammered upon our defences ? How long would 
it be before the American flag would be seen no more 
upon the high seas? 

It is not surprising that the government found its 
position one of perilous responsibility. A wrathful 
nation expected of it more than it could perform. 

All over the country, however, there were thought- 
ful men, not connected with the government, who saw 
the perilous features of the situation, and day by day 
these grew less afraid of being considered traitors, and 
more willing to declare their convictions of the coun- 
try’s danger. Despite the continuance of the national 
enthusiasm, doubts, perplexities, and fears began to 
show themselves. 

In the States bordering upon Canada a reactionary 
feeling became evident. Unless the United States 
Navy could prevent England from rapidly pouring into 
Canada not only her own troops, but perhaps those of 
allied nations, these Northern States might become 
the scene of warfare, and, whatever the issue of the 
contest, their lands might be ravished, their people 
suffer. 

From many quarters, urgent demands were now 
pressed upon the government. From the interior 
there were clamors for troops to be massed on the 
northern frontier, and from the seaboard cities there 
8 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


came a cry for ships that were worthy to be called 
men-of-war— ships to defend the harbors and bays, 
ships to repel an invasion by sea. Suggestions were 
innumerable. There was no time to build, it was 
urged. The government could call upon friendly na- 
tions. But wise men smiled sadly at these suggestions. 
It would be difficult to find a nation desirous of a war 
with England. 

In the midst of the enthusiasms, the fears, and the 
suggestions, came reports of the capture of American 
merchantmen by fast British cruisers. These reports 
made the American people more furious, the American 
government more anxious. 

Almost from the beginning of this period of national 
turmoil, a party of gentlemen met daily in one of the 
large rooms in a hotel in New York. At first there 
were eleven of these men, all from the great Atlantic 
cities, but their number increased by arrivals from 
other parts of the country, until at last they numbered 
twenty-three. These gentlemen were all great capi- 
talists, and accustomed to occupying themselves with 
great enterprises. By day and by night they met to- 
gether, with closed doors, until they had matured the 
scheme they had been considering. As soon as this 
work was done, a committee was sent to Washington, 
to submit a plan to the government. 

These twenty-three men had formed themselves into 
a syndicate, with the object of taking entire charge 
of the war between the United States and Great 
Britain. 

This proposition was an astounding one, but the 
government was obliged to treat it with respectful 
consideration. The men who offered it were a power 
9 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


in the land— a power which no government could 
afford to disregard. 

The plan of the Syndicate was comprehensive, 
direct, and simple. It offered to assume the entire 
control and expense of the war, and to effect a satis- 
factory peace within one year. As a guarantee that 
this contract would be properly performed, an im- 
mense sum of money would be deposited in the Treasury 
at W ashington. Should the Syndicate be unsuccessful, 
this sum would be forfeited, and it would receive no 
pay for anything it had done. 

The sum to be paid by the government to the Syn- 
dicate, should it bring the war to a satisfactory con- 
clusion, would depend upon the duration of hostilities. 
That is to say, that, as the shorter the duration of the 
war, the greater would be the benefit to the country, 
therefore, the larger must be the pay to the Syndicate. 
According to the proposed contract, the Syndicate 
would receive, if the war should continue for a year, 
one quarter the sum stipulated to be paid if peace 
should be declared in three months. 

If, at any time during the conduct of the war by the 
Syndicate, an American seaport should be taken by 
the enemy, or a British force landed on any point of 
the sea-coast, the contract should be considered at an 
end, and security and payment forfeited. If any point 
on the northern boundary of the United States should 
be taken and occupied by the enemy, one million dol- 
lars of the deposited security should be forfeited for 
every such occupation, but the contract should con- 
tinue. 

It was stipulated that the land and naval forces of 
the United States should remain under the entire 
10 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


control of the government, but should be maintained 
as a defensive force, and not brought into action unless 
any failure on the part of the Syndicate should render 
such action necessary. 

The state of feeling in governmental circles, and the 
evidences of alarm and distrust which were becoming 
apparent in Congress and among the people, exerted 
an important influence in favor of the Syndicate. The 
government caught at its proposition, not as if it were 
a straw, but as if it were a life-raft. The men who 
offered to relieve the executive departments of their 
perilous responsibilities were men of great ability, 
prominent positions, and vast resources, whose vast 
enterprises had already made them known all over 
the globe. Such men were not likely to jeopardize 
their reputations and fortunes in a case like this, unless 
they had well-founded reasons for believing that they 
would be successful. Even the largest amount stipu- 
lated to be paid them in case of success would be less 
than the ordinary estimates for the military and naval 
operations which had been anticipated, and in case of 
failure, the amount forfeited would go far to repair 
the losses which might be sustained by the citizens of 
the various States. 

At all events, should the Syndicate be allowed to 
take immediate control of the war, there would be 
time to put the army and navy, especially the latter, 
in better condition to carry on the contest, in case of 
the failure of the Syndicate. Organization and con- 
struction might still go on, and, should it be necessary, 
the army and navy could step into the contest, fresh 
and well prepared. 

All branches of the government united in accepting 
11 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the offer of the Syndicate. The contract was signed, 
and the world waited to see what would happen 
next. 

The influence which for years had been exerted by 
the interests controlled by the men composing the 
Syndicate, had its effect in producing a popular con- 
fidence in the power of the members of the Syndicate 
to conduct a war as successfully as they had conducted 
other gigantic enterprises. Therefore, although pre- 
dictions of disaster came from many quarters, the 
American public appeared willing to wait with but 
moderate impatience for the result of this novel 
undertaking. 

The government now proceeded to mass troops at 
important points on the northern frontier. Forts were 
supplied with men and armaments, all coast defences 
were put in the best possible condition, the navy was 
stationed at important ports, and work at the ship- 
yards went on. But, without reference to all this, the 
work of the Syndicate immediately began. 

This body of men were of various politics and of 
various pursuits in life. But politics were no more 
regarded in the work they had undertaken than they 
would have been in the purchase of land or of railroad 
iron. No manifestoes of motives and intentions were 
issued to the public. The Syndicate simply went to 
work. There could be no doubt that early success 
would be a direct profit to it, but there could also be 
no doubt that its success would be a vast benefit and 
profit, not only to the business enterprises in which 
these men were severally engaged, but to the business 
of the whole country. To save the United States from 
a dragging war, and to save themselves from the effects 
12 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


of it, were the prompting motives for the formation of 
the Syndicate. 

Without hesitation, the Syndicate determined that 
the war in which it was about to engage should be one 
of defence by means of offence. Such a war must 
necessarily be quick and effective. And, with all the 
force of their fortunes, their minds, and their bodies, 
its members went to work to wage this war quickly 
and effectively. 

All known inventions and improvements in the art 
of war had been thoroughly considered by the Syndi- 
cate, and by the eminent specialists whom it had 
enlisted in its service. Certain recently perfected 
engines of war, novel in nature, were the exclusive 
property of the Syndicate. It was known, or sur- 
mised, in certain quarters, that the Syndicate had 
secured possession of important warlike inventions, 
but what they were and how they acted was a secret 
carefully guarded and protected. 

The first step of the Syndicate was to purchase from 
the United States government ten war- vessels. These 
were of medium size and in good condition, but they 
were of an old-fashioned type, and it had not been 
considered expedient to put them in commission. 
This action caused surprise and disappointment in 
many quarters. It had been supposed that the Syn- 
dicate, through its agents scattered all over the world, 
would immediately acquire, by purchase or lease, a 
fleet of fine ironclads, culled from various maritime 
powers. But the Syndicate, having no intention of 
involving, or attempting to involve, other countries 
in this quarrel, paid no attention to public opinion, 
and went to work in its own way. 

13 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Its vessels, eight of which were on the Atlantic coast 
and two on the Pacific, were rapidly prepared for the 
peculiar service in which they were to be engaged. 
The resources of the Syndicate were great, and in a 
very short time several of their vessels, already heavily 
plated with steel, were furnished with an additional 
outside armor, formed of strips of elastic steel, each 
reaching from the gunwales nearly to the surface of 
the water. These strips, about a foot wide, and placed 
an inch or two apart, were each backed by several 
powerful air-buffers, so that a ball, striking one or more 
of them, would be deprived of much of its momentum. 
The experiments upon the steel spring and buffers 
adopted by the Syndicate showed that the force of the 
heaviest cannonading was almost deadened by the 
powerful elasticity of this armor. 

The armament of each vessel consisted of but one 
gun, of large caliber, placed on the forward deck, and 
protected by a bomb-proof covering. Each vessel was 
manned by a captain and crew from the merchant 
service, from whom no warlike duties were expected. 
The fighting operations were in charge of a small body 
of men, composed of two or three scientific specialists, 
and some practical gunners and their assistants. A 
few bomb-proof canopies and a curved steel deck 
completed the defences of the vessel. 

Besides equipping this little navy, the Syndicate set 
about the construction of certain sea-going vessels of 
an extraordinary kind. So great were the facilities 
at its command, and so thorough and complete its 
methods, that ten or a dozen shipyards and foundries 
were set to work simultaneously to build one of these 
ships. In a marvellously short time the Syndicate 
possessed several of them, ready for action. 

14 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


These vessels became technically known as “crabs.” 
They were not large, and the only part of them 
which projected above the water was the middle of an 
elliptical deck, slightly convex, and heavily mailed 
with ribs of steel. These vessels were fitted with elec- 
tric engines of extraordinary power, and were capable 
of great speed. At their bows, fully protected by the 
overhanging deck, was the machinery by which their 
peculiar work was to be accomplished. The Syndicate 
intended to confine itself to marine operations, and, for 
the present, it was contented with these two classes of 
vessels. 

The armament for each of the large vessels, as has 
been said before, consisted of a single gun of long 
range, and the ammunition was confined entirely to a 
new style of projectile, which had never yet been used 
in warfare. The material and construction of this 
projectile were known only to three members of the 
Syndicate, who had invented and perfected it, and it 
was on account of their possession of this secret that 
they had been invited to join that body. 

This projectile was not, in the ordinary sense of the 
word, an explosive, and was named by its inventors 
the “Instantaneous Motor.” It was discharged from 
an ordinary cannon, but no gunpowder or other ex- 
plosive compound was used to propel it. The bomb 
possessed, in itself, the necessary power of propulsion, 
and the gun was used merely to give it the proper 
direction. 

These bombs were cylindrical in form, and pointed 
at the outer end. They were filled with hundreds 
of small tubes, each radiating outward from a cen- 
tral line. Those in the middle third of the bomb 
pointed directly outward, while those in its front por- 
15 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


tion were inclined forward at a slight angle, and those 
in the rear portion backward at the same angle. One 
tube, at the end of the bomb, and pointing directly 
backward, furnished the motive power. 

Each of these tubes could exert a force sufficient to 
move an ordinary train of passenger-cars one mile, 
and this power could be exerted instantaneously, so 
that the difference in time in the starting of a train at 
one end of the mile and its arrival at the other would 
not be appreciable. The difference in concussionary 
force between a train moving at the rate of a mile in 
two minutes, or even one minute, and another train 
which moves a mile in an instant, can easily be imagined. 

In these bombs, those tubes which might direct their 
powers downward or laterally upon the earth were 
capable of instantaneously propelling every portion of 
solid ground or rock to a distance of two or three hun- 
dred yards, while the particles of objects on the surface 
of the earth were instantaneously removed to a far 
greater distance. The tube which propelled the bomb 
was of a force graduated according to circumstances, 
and it would carry a bomb to as great a distance as 
accurate observation for purposes of aim could be 
made. Its force was brought into action while in the 
cannon by means of electricity, while the same effect 
was produced in the other tubes by the concussion of 
the steel head against the object aimed at. 

What gave the tubes their power was the jealously 
guarded secret. 

The method of aiming was as novel as the bomb 
itself. In this process, nothing depended on the eye- 
sight of the gunner : the personal equation was entirely 
eliminated. The gun was so mounted that its direction 
16 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


was accurately indicated by graduated scales. There 
was an instrument which was acted upon by the dip, 
rise, or roll of the vessel, and which showed at any 
moment the position of the gun with reference to the 
plane of the sea surface. 

Before the discharge of the cannon, an observation 
was taken by one of the scientific men, which accu- 
rately determined the distance to the object to be 
aimed at, and reference to a carefully prepared mathe- 
matical table showed to what points on the graduated 
scales the gun should be adjusted, and the instant that 
the muzzle of the cannon was in the position that it 
was when the observation was taken, a button was 
touched, and the bomb was instantaneously placed on 
the spot aimed at. The exactness with which the pro- 
pelling force of the bomb could be determined was an 
important factor in this method of aiming. 

As soon as three of the spring-armored vessels and 
five crabs were completed, the Syndicate felt itself 
ready to begin operations. It was, indeed, time. The 
seas had been covered with American and British mer- 
chantmen, hastening homeward, or to friendly ports, 
before the actual commencement of hostilities. But 
all had not been fortunate enough to reach safety 
within the limits of time allowed, and several Ameri- 
can merchantmen already had been captured by fast 
British cruisers. 

The members of the Syndicate well understood that 
if a war were to be carried on as they desired, they 
must strike the first real blow. Comparatively speak- 
ing, a very short time had elapsed since the declaration 
of war, and the opportunity to take the initiative was 
still open. 


17 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

It was in order to take this initiative that, in the 
early hours of a July morning, two of the Syndicate’s 
armored vessels, each accompanied by a crab, steamed 
out of a New England port, and headed for the point 
on the Canadian coast where it had been decided to 
open the campaign. 

The vessels of the Syndicate had no individual 
names. The spring-armored ships were termed “re- 
pellers,” and were numbered, and the crabs were 
known by the letters of the alphabet. Each repeller 
was in charge of a Director of Naval Operations, and 
the whole naval force of the Syndicate was under the 
command of a Director-in-chief. On this momentous 
occasion this officer was on board of Repeller No. 1, 
and commanded the little fleet. 

The repellers had never been vessels of great speed, 
and their present armor of steel strips, the lower por- 
tion of which was frequently under water, considerably 
retarded their progress ; but each of them was taken 
in tow by one of the swift and powerful crabs, and, 
with this assistance, they made very good time, reach- 
ing their destination on the morning of the second day. 

It was on a breezy day, with a cloudy sky, and the 
sea moderately smooth, that the little fleet of the Syn- 
dicate lay to off the harbor of one of the principal 
Canadian seaports. About five miles away, the head- 
lands on either side of the mouth of the harbor could 
be plainly seen. It had been decided that Repeller 
No. 1 should begin operations. Accordingly, that 
vessel steamed about a mile nearer the harbor, accom- 
panied by Crab A. The other repeller and crab re- 
mained in their first position, ready to act in case 
they should be needed. 


18 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The approach of two vessels, evidently men-of-war, 
and carrying the American flag, was perceived from 
the forts and redoubts at the mouth of the harbor, and 
the news quickly spread to the city and to the vessels 
in port. Intense excitement ensued, on land and 
water, among the citizens of the place, as well as its 
defenders. Every man who had a post of duty was 
instantly at it, and in less than half an hour the Brit- 
ish man-of-war Scarabceus , which had been lying at 
anchor a short distance outside the harbor, came 
steaming out to meet the enemy. There were other 
naval vessels in port, but they required more time to 
be put in readiness for action. 

As soon as the approach of the Scarabceus was per- 
ceived by Repeiler No. 1, a boat bearing a white flag 
was lowered from that vessel, and was rapidly rowed 
toward the British ship. When the latter saw the boat 
coming, she lay to, and awaited its arrival. A note was 
delivered to the captain of the Scarabceus , in which it 
was stated that the Syndicate which had undertaken,— 
on the part of the United States, the conduct of the 
war between that country and Great Britain, was now 
prepared to demand the surrender of this city, with its 
forts and defences and all vessels within its harbor, and, 
as a first step, the immediate surrender of the vessel 
to the commander of which this note was delivered. 

The overwhelming effrontery of this demand caused 
the commander of the Scarabceus to doubt whether he 
had to deal with a raving lunatic or a blustering fool, 
but he informed the person in charge of the flag-of- 
truce boat that he would give him fifteen minutes in 
which to get back to his vessel, and that he would 
then open fire upon that craft. 

19 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The men who rowed the little boat were not men- 
of-war’s-men, and were unaccustomed to duties of this 
kind. In eight minutes they had reached their vessel, 
and were safe on board. 

Just seven minutes afterwards the first shot came 
from the Scarabceus. It passed over Repeller No. 1, 
and that vessel, instead of replying, immediately 
steamed nearer her adversary. The Director-in-chief 
desired to determine the effect of an active cannonade 
upon the new armor, and, therefore, ordered the vessel 
placed in such a position that the Englishman might 
have the best opportunity for using it as a target. 

The Scarabceus lost no time in availing herself of the 
facilities offered. She was a large and powerful ship, 
with a heavy armament, and, soon getting the range 
of the Syndicate’s vessel, she hurled ball after ball 
upon her striped side. Repeller No. 1 made no reply, 
but quietly submitted to the terrible bombardment. 
Some of the great shot jarred her from bow to stern, 
but not one of them broke a steel spring, nor pene- 
trated the heavy inside plates. 

After half an hour of this work, the Director-in-chief 
became satisfied that the new armor had well acquitted 
itself in the severe trial to which it had been subjected. 
Some of the air-buffers had been disabled, probably on 
account of faults in their construction, but these could 
readily be replaced, and no further injury had been 
done the vessel. It was not necessary, therefore, to 
continue the experiment any longer, and, besides, there 
was danger that the Englishman, perceiving that his 
antagonist did not appear to be affected by his fire, 
would approach closer and endeavor to ram her. This 
was to be avoided, for the Scarabceus was a much larger 
20 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


vessel than Repeller No. 1, and able to run into the 
latter and sink her by mere preponderance of weight. 

It was, therefore, decided now to test the powers of 
the crabs. Signals were made from Repeller No. 1 to 
Crab A, which had been lying with the larger vessel 
between it and the enemy. These signals were made 
by jets of dense black smoke, which were ejected from 
a small pipe on the repeller. These slender columns 
of smoke preserved their cylindrical forms for some 
moments, and were visible at a great distance, by day 
or night, being illumined, in the latter case, by electric 
light. The length and frequency of these jets were 
regulated by an instrument in the Director’s room. 
Thus, by means of long and short puffs, with the proper 
use of intervals, a message could be projected into the 
air, as a telegraphic instrument would mark it upon 
paper. 

In this manner, Crab A was ordered to proceed imme- 
diately to the attack of the Scarabceus. The almost 
submerged vessel steamed rapidly from behind her 
consort, and made for the British man-of-war. 

When the latter vessel perceived the approach of 
this turtle-backed object, squirting little jets of black 
smoke as she replied to the orders from the repeller, 
there was great amazement on board. The crab had 
not been seen before, but, as it came rapidly on, there 
was no time for curiosity or discussion, and several 
heavy guns were brought to bear upon it. It was 
difficult to hit a rapidly moving flat object scarcely 
above the surface of the water, and although several 
shot struck the crab, they glanced off without in the 
least interfering with its progress. 

Crab A soon came so near the Scarabceus that it was 


21 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


impossible to depress the guns of the latter so as to 
strike her. The great vessel was, therefore, headed 
toward its assailant, and, under a full head of steam, 
dashed directly at it, to run it down. But the crab 
could turn as upon a pivot, and, shooting to one side, 
allowed the surging man-of-war to pass it. 

Perceiving instantly that it would be difficult to 
strike this nimble and almost submerged adversary, 
the commander of the Scarabceus thought it well to let 
it alone for the present, and to bear down with all 
speed upon the repeller. But it was easier to hit the 
crab than to leave it behind. It was capable of great 
speed, and, following the British vessel, it quickly came 
up with her. 

The course of the Scarabceus was instantly changed, 
and every effort was made to get the vessel into a 
position to run down the crab. But this was not easy 
for so large a ship, and Crab A seemed to have no diffi- 
culty in keeping close to her stern. 

Several machine guns, especially adapted for firing 
at torpedo boats, or any hostile craft which might be 
discovered close to a vessel, were now brought to bear 
upon the crab, and ball after ball was hurled at her. 
Some of these struck, but glanced off without pene- 
trating her tough armor. 

These manoeuvres had not continued long, when the 
crew of the crab was ready to bring into action the 
peculiar apparatus of that peculiar craft. An enor- 
mous pair of iron forceps, each massive limb of which 
measured twelve feet or more in length, was run out 
in front of the crab, at a depth of six or eight feet below 
the suiface. These forceps were acted upon by an 
electric engine of immense power, by which they could 
22 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


be shut, opened, projected, withdrawn, or turned and 
twisted. 

The crab darted forward, and in the next instant 
the great teeth of her pincers were fastened with a 
tremendous grip upon the rudder and rudder-post of 
the Scarabceus. 

Then followed a sudden twist, which sent a thrill 
through both vessels, a crash, a backward jerk, the 
snapping of a chain, and in a moment the great rudder, 
with half of the rudder-post attached, was torn from 
the vessel, and, as the forceps opened, it dropped to 
leeward, and hung dangling by one chain. 

Again the forceps opened wide, again there was a 
rush, and this time the huge jaws closed upon the 
rapidly revolving screw-propeller. There was a tre- 
mendous crash, and the small but massive crab turned 
over so far that for an instant one of its sides was 
plainly visible above the water. The blades of the 
propeller were crushed and shivered, those parts of 
the steamer’s engines connecting with the propeller- 
shaft were snapped and rent apart, while the propeller- 
shaft itself was broken by the violent stoppage. 

The crab, which had quickly righted, now backed, 
still holding the crushed propeller in its iron grasp, 
and, as it moved away from the Scarabceus , it extracted 
about forty feet of its propeller-shaft ; then, opening 
its massive jaws, it allowed the useless mass of iron to 
drop to the bottom of the sea. 

Every man on board the Scarabceus was wild with 
amazement and excitement. Few could comprehend 
what had happened, but this very quickly became 
evident : so far as motive power was concerned, the 
Scarabceus was totally disabled. She could not direct 
23 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


her course, for her rudder was gone, her propeller was 
gone, her engines were useless, and she could do no 
more than float as wind or tide might move her. 
Moreover, there was a jagged hole in her stern where 
the shaft had been, and through this the water was 
pouring into the vessel. As a man-of-war the Scara- 
bceus was worthless. 

Orders now came fast from Repeller No. 1, which 
had moved nearer to the scene of conflict. It was to 
be supposed that the disabled ship was properly fur- 
nished with bulkheads, so that the water would pene- 
trate no farther than the stern compartment, and 
that, therefore, she was in no danger of sinking. Crab 
A was ordered to make fast to the bow of the Scara- 
bceuSj and to tow her toward two men-of-war who were 
rapidly approaching from the harbor. 

This proceeding astonished the commander and 
officers of the Scarabceus almost as much as the extraor- 
dinary attack which had been made upon their ship. 
They had expected a demand to surrender and to haul 
down their flag, but the Director-in-chief, on board 
Repeller No. 1, was of the opinion that, with her pro- 
peller extracted, it mattered little what flag she flew. 
His work with the Scarabceus was over, for it had been 
ordered by the Syndicate that its vessels should not 
encumber themselves with prizes. 

Towed by the powerful crab, which apparently had 
no fear that its disabled adversary might fire upon it, 
the Scarabceus moved toward the harbor, and when it 
had come within a quarter of a mile of the foremost 
British vessel, Crab A cast off and steamed back to 
Repeller No. 1. 

The other English vessels soon came up, and each 
24 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


lay to and sent a boat to the Scarabceus. After half an 
hour’s consultation, in which the amazement of those 
on board the damaged vessel was communicated to the 
officers and crews of her two consorts, it was deter- 
mined that the smaller of these should tow the disabled 
ship into port, while the other one, in company with a 
man-of-war just coming out of the harbor, should make 
an attack upon Repeller No. 1. 

It had been plainly proved that ordinary shot and 
shell had no effect upon this craft, but it had not been 
proved that she could withstand the rams of powerful 
ironclads. If this vessel, that apparently carried no 
guns, or, at least, had used none, could be crushed, 
capsized, sunk, or in any way put out of the fight, it 
was probable that the dangerous submerged nautical 
machine would not care to remain in these waters. If 
it remained, it must be destroyed by torpedoes. 

Signals were exchanged between the two English 
vessels, and in a very short time they were steaming 
toward the repeller. It was a dangerous thing for 
two vessels of their size to come close enough together 
for both to ram an enemy at the same time, but it was 
determined to take the risks and to do this, if possible, 
for the destruction of the repeller was obviously the 
first duty in hand. 

As the two men-of-war rapidly approached Repeller 
No. 1, they kept up a steady fire upon her, for if in 
this way they could damage her, the easier would be 
their task. With a firm reliance upon the efficacy of 
the steel-spring armor, the Director-in-chief felt no 
fear of the enemy’s shot and shell, but he was not at 
all willing that his vessel should be rammed, for the 
consequences would probably be disastrous. Accord- 
25 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


ingly, he did not wait for the approach of the two 
vessels, but, steering seaward, he signalled for the 
other crab. 

When Crab B made its appearance, puffing its little 
black jets of smoke as it answered the signals of the 
Director-in- chief, the commanders of the two British 
vessels were surprised. They had imagined that there 
was only one of these strange and terrible enemies, 
and had supposed that she would be afraid to make 
her peculiar attack upon one of them, because while 
doing so she would expose herself to the danger of 
being run down by the other. But the presence of 
two of these almost submerged engines of destruction 
entirely changed the situation. 

But the commanders of the British ships were brave 
men. They had started to run down the strangely 
armored American craft, and run her down they 
would, if they could. They put on more steam, and 
went ahead at greater speed. In such a furious on- 
slaught the crabs might not dare to attack them. 

But they did not understand the nature nor the 
powers of these enemies. In less than twenty minutes 
Crab A had laid hold of one of the men-of-war, and 
Crab B of the other. The rudders of both were shat- 
tered and torn away, and, while the blades of one 
propeller were crushed to pieces, the other, with nearly 
half its shaft, was drawn out and dropped into the 
ocean. Helplessly the two men-of-war rose and fell 
upon the waves. 

In obedience to orders from the repeller, each crab 
took hold of one of the disabled vessels, and towed it 
near the mouth of the harbor, where it was left. 

The city was now in a state of feverish excitement, 
26 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


which was intensified by the fact that a majority of 
the people did not understand what had happened, 
while those to whom this had been made plain, could 
not comprehend why such a thing should have been 
allowed to happen. Three of her Majesty’s ships of 
war, equipped and ready for action, had sailed out of 
the harbor, and an apparently insignificant enemy, 
without firing a gun, had put them into such a condi- 
tion that they were utterly unfit for service, and must 
be towed into a dry- dock. How could the govern- 
ment, the municipality, the army, or the navy explain 
this? 

The anxiety, the excitement, the nervous desire to 
know what had happened, and what might be ex- 
pected next, spread, that evening, to every part of the 
Dominion reached by telegraph. 

The military authorities in charge of the defences 
of the city were as much disturbed and amazed by 
what had happened as any civilian could possibly be, 
but they had no fears for the safety of the place, for 
the enemy’s vessels could not possibly enter, nor even 
approach, the harbor. The fortifications on the heights 
mounted guns much heavier than those on the men- 
of-war, and shots from these, fired from an elevation, 
might sink even those a under -water devils.” But, 
more than on the forts, they relied upon their admi- 
rable system of torpedoes and submarine batteries. 
With these in position and ready for action, as they 
now were, it was impossible for an enemy’s vessel, 
floating on the water or under it, to enter the harbor, 
without certain destruction. 

Bulletins to this effect were posted in the city, and 
somewhat allayed the popular anxiety, although many 
27 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


people, who were fearful of what might happen next, 
left by the evening trains for the interior. That night 
the news of this extraordinary affair was cabled to 
Europe, and thence back to the United States, and all 
over the world. In many quarters the account was 
disbelieved, and in no quarter was it thoroughly under- 
stood, for it must be borne in mind that the methods 
of operation employed by the crabs were not evident 
to those on board the disabled vessels. But every- 
where there was the greatest desire to know what 
would be done next. 

It was the general opinion that the two armored 
vessels were merely tenders to the submerged machines 
which had done the mischief. Having fired no guns, 
nor taken any active part in the combat, there was 
every reason to believe that they were intended merely 
as bomb-proof store-ships for their formidable consorts. 
As these submerged vessels could not attack a town, 
nor reduce fortifications, but could exercise their 
power only against vessels afloat, it was plain enough 
to see that the object of the American Syndicate was 
to blockade the port. That they would be able to 
maintain the blockade when the full power of the 
British navy should be brought to bear upon them 
was generally doubted, though it was conceded, in the 
most wrathful circles, that, until the situation should 
be altered, it would be unwise to risk valuable war- 
vessels in encounters with the diabolical sea-monsters 
now lying off the port. 

In the Hew York office of the Syndicate there was 
great satisfaction. The news received was incorrect 
and imperfect, but it was evident that, so far, every- 
thing had gone well. 


28 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


About nine o’clock the next morning, Kepeller No. 1, 
with her consort half a mile astern, and preceded by 
the two crabs, one on either bow, approached to within 
two miles of the harbor mouth. The crabs, a quarter 
of a mile ahead of the repeller, moved slowly, for be- 
tween them they bore an immense net, three or four 
hundred feet long, and thirty feet deep, composed of 
jointed steel rods. Along the upper edge of this net 
was a series of air-floats, which were so graduated that 
they were sunk by the weight of the net a few feet 
below the surface of the water, from which position 
they held the net suspended vertically. 

This net, which was intended to protect the repeller 
against the approach of submarine torpedoes which 
might be directed from the shore, was anchored at 
each end, two very small buoys indicating its position. 
The crabs then falling astern, Repeller No. 1 lay to, 
with the sunken net between her and the shore, and 
prepared to project the first Instantaneous Motor 
bomb ever used in warfare. 

The great gun in the bow of the vessel was loaded 
with one of the largest and most powerful motor 
bombs, and the spot to be aimed at was selected. This 
was a point in the water just inside of the mouth of 
the harbor, and nearly a mile from the land on either 
side. The distance of this point from the vessel being 
calculated, the cannon was adjusted at the angle called 
for by the scale of distances and levels, and the instru- 
ment indicating rise, fall, and direction was then put 
in connection with it. 

Now the Director-in- chief stepped forward to the 
button, by pressing which the power of the motor was 
developed. The chief of the scientific corps then 
29 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


showed him the exact point upon the scale which 
would be indicated when the gun was in its proper 
position, and the piece was moved upon its bear- 
ings so as to approximate, as nearly as possible, this 
direction. 

The bow of the vessel now rose upon the swell of 
the sea, and the instant that the index upon the 
scale reached the desired point, the Director-in- chief 
touched the button. 

There was no report, no smoke, no visible sign that 
the motor had left the cannon, but at that instant 
there appeared, to those who were on the lookout 
from a fort about a mile away, a vast aperture in the 
waters of the bay, which was variously described as 
from one hundred to five hundred yards in diam- 
eter. At that same instant, in the neighboring head- 
lands and islands far up the shores of the bay, and in 
every street and building of the city, there was felt a 
sharp shock, as if the underlying rocks had been 
struck by a gigantic trip-hammer. 

At the same instant the sky above the spot where 
the motor had descended was darkened by a wide- 
spreading cloud. This was formed of that portion of 
the water of the bay which had been instantaneously 
raised to the height of about a thousand feet. The 
sudden appearance of this cloud was even more terrible 
than the yawning chasm in the waters of the bay, or 
the startling shock, but it did not remain long in view. 
It had no sooner reached its highest elevation than it 
began to descend. There was a strong sea-breeze blow- 
ing, and in its descent this vast mass of water was 
impelled toward the land. 

It came down, not as rain, but as the waters of a 
30 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


vast cataract— as though a mountain lake, by an earth- 
quake shock, had been precipitated in a body upon a 
valley. Only one edge of it reached the land, and 
here the seething flood tore away earth, trees, and 
rocks, leaving behind it great chasms and gullies, as it 
descended to the sea. 

The bay itself, into which the vast body of the water 
fell, became a scene of surging madness. The towering 
walls of water, which had stood up all around the sud- 
denly created aperture, hurled themselves back into 
the abyss, and down into the great chasm at the bottom 
of the bay, which had been made when the motor sent 
its shock along the great rock beds. Down upon, and 
into, this roaring, boiling tumult fell the tremendous 
cataract from above, and the harbor became one wild 
expanse of leaping, maddened waves, hissing their 
whirling spray high into the air. 

During these few terrific moments other things hap- 
pened, which passed unnoticed in the general conster- 
nation. All along the shores of the bay and in front 
of the city the waters seemed to be sucked away, slowly 
returning, as the sea forced them to their level, and at 
many points up and down the harbor there were sub- 
marine detonations and upheavals of the water. 

These were caused by the explosion, by concussion, 
of every torpedo and submarine battery in the harbor, 
and it was with this object in view that the Instantane- 
ous Motor bomb had been shot into the mouth of the 
bay. 

The effects of the discharge of the motor bomb 
astonished, and even startled, those on board the re- 
pellers and the crabs. At the instant of touching the 
button, a hydraulic shock was felt on Repeller No. 1. 

31 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


This was supposed to be occasioned by the discharge 
of the motor, but it was also felt on the other vessels. 
It was the same shock that had been felt on shore, but 
less in degree. A few moments after there was a great 
heaving swell of the sea, which tossed and rolled the 
four vessels, and lifted the steel protecting- net so high 
that, for an instant, parts of it showed themselves above 
the surface like glistening sea-ghosts. 

Experiments with motor bombs had been made in 
unsettled mountainous districts, but this was the first 
one which had ever exerted its power under water. 

On shore, in the forts, and in the city, no one for an 
instant supposed that the terrific phenomenon which 
had just occurred was in any way due to the vessels of 
the Syndicate. The repellers were in plain view, and 
it was evident that neither of them had fired a gun. 
Besides, the firing of cannon did not produce such 
effects. It was the general opinion that there had 
been an earthquake shock, accompanied by a cloud- 
burst and extraordinary convulsions of the sea. Such 
a combination of elementary disturbances had never 
been known in those parts, and a great many persons 
were much more frightened than if they had under- 
stood what had really happened. 

In about half an hour after the discharge of the 
motor bomb, when the sea had resumed its usual quiet, 
a boat, carrying a white flag, left Bepeller No. 1. rowed 
directly over the submerged net, and made for the 
harbor. When the approach of this flag of truce was 
perceived from the fort nearest the mouth of the har- 
bor, it occasioned much surmise. Had the earthquake 
brought these Syndicate knaves to their senses? Or 
were they about to make further absurd and outra- 
32 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


geous demands 1 Some irate officers were of the opinion 
that enemies like these should be considered no better 
than pirates, and that their flag of truce should be 
fired upon. But the commandant of the fort paid no 
attention to such counsels, and sent a detachment with 
a white flag down to the beach to meet the approach- 
ing boat and learn its errand. 

The men in the boat had nothing to do but to de- 
liver a letter from the Director-in-chief to the com- 
mandant of the fort, and then row back again. No 
answer was required. 

When the commandant read the brief note, he made 
no remark. In fact, he could think of no appropriate 
remark to make. The missive simply informed him 
that at 10 : 18 A. M. of that day the first bomb from 
the marine forces of the Syndicate had been dis- 
charged into the waters of the harbor. At or about 
2 p. m. the second bomb would be discharged at Fort 
Pilcher. That was all. 

What this extraordinary message meant could not 
be imagined by any officer of the garrison. If the 
people on board the ships were taking advantage of 
the earthquake, and supposed they could induce 
British soldiers to believe that it had been caused 
by one of their bombs, then were they idiots indeed. 
They would fire their second shot at Fort Pilcher ! 
This was impossible, for they had not yet fired their 
first shot. These Syndicate people were evidently 
very tricky, and the defenders of the port must, there- 
fore, be very cautious. 

Fort Pilcher was a very large but unfinished fortifi- 
cation, on a bluff on the opposite side of the harbor. 
Work had been discontinued on it as soon as the Syn- 
33 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


dicate’s vessels liad appeared off the port, for it was not 
desired to expose the builders and other workmen to a 
possible bombardment. The place was now, therefore, 
almost deserted. But after the receipt of the Syndi- 
cate’s message, the commandant feared that the enemy 
might throw an ordinary shell into the unfinished 
works, and he sent a boat across the bay to order away 
any workmen or others who might be lingering about 
the place. 

A little after 2 p. m., an Instantaneous Motor bomb 
was discharged from Repeller No. 1 into Fort Pilcher. 
It was set to act five seconds after impact with the 
object aimed at. It struck in a central portion of the 
unfinished fort, and having described a high curve in 
the air, descended not only with its own motive power 
but with the force of gravitation, and penetrated 
deep into the earth. 

Five seconds later a vast brown cloud appeared on 
the Fort Pilcher promontory. This cloud was nearly 
spherical in form, with an apparent diameter of about 
a thousand yards. At the same instant a shock similar 
to that accompanying the first motor bomb was felt in 
the city and surrounding country ; but this was not so 
severe as the other, for the second bomb did not exert 
its force upon the underlying rocks of the region as the 
first one had done. 

The great brown cloud quickly began to lose its 
spherical form, part of it descending heavily to the 
earth, and part floating away in vast dust-clouds, borne 
inland by the breeze, settling downward as they moved, 
and depositing on land, water, ships, houses, domes, 
and trees an almost impalpable powder. 

When the cloud had cleared away there were no 
34 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


fortifications, and the bluff on which they had stood 
had disappeared. Part of this bluff had floated away 
on the wind, and part of it lay piled in great heaps 
of sand on the spot where its rocks had upheld a 
fort. 

The effect of the motor bomb was fully observed 
with glasses from the various fortifications of the port, 
and from many points of the city and harbor, and 
those familiar with the effects of explosives were not 
long in making up their minds what had happened. 
They felt sure that a mine had been sprung beneath 
Fort Pilcher, and they were now equally confident that 
in the morning a torpedo of novel and terrible power 
had been exploded in the harbor. They now disbe- 
lieved in the earthquake, and treated with contempt 
the pretence that shots had been fired from the Syn- 
dicate’s vessel. This was merely a trick of the enemy. 
It was not even likely that the mine or the torpedo 
had been operated from the ship. These were, in all 
probability, under the control of confederates on shore, 
and had been exploded at times agreed upon before- 
hand. All this was perfectly plain to the military 
authorities. 

But the people of the city derived no comfort from 
the announcement of these conclusions. For all that 
anybody knew, the whole city might be undermined, 
and at any moment might ascend in a cloud of minute 
particles. They felt that they were in a region of 
hidden traitors and bombs, and, in consequence of this 
belief, thousands of citizens left their homes. 

That afternoon a truce-boat again went out from 
Eepeller No. 1, and rowed to the fort, where a letter 
to the commandant was delivered. This, like the 


35 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


other, demanded no answer, and the boat returned. 
Later in the afternoon the two repellers, accompanied 
by the crabs, and leaving the steel net still anchored 
in its place, retired a few miles seaward, where they 
prepared to lay to for the night. 

The letter brought by the truce-boat was read by 
the commandant, surrounded by his officers. It stated 
that in twenty-four hours from time of writing it, 
which would be at or about four o’clock on the next 
afternoon, a bomb would be thrown into the garrisoned 
fort under the command of the officer addressed. As 
this would result in the entire destruction of the forti- 
fication, the commandant was earnestly counselled to 
evacuate the fort before the hour specified. 

Ordinarily the commandant of the fort was of a calm 
and unexcitable temperament. During the astounding 
events of that day and the day before he had kept his 
head cool. His judgment, if not correct, was the result 
of sober and earnest consideration. But now he lost 
his temper. The unparalleled effrontery and imper- 
tinence of this demand of the American Syndicate was 
too much for his self-possession. He stormed in anger. 

Here was the culmination of the knavish trickery of 
these conscienceless pirates who had attacked the port. 
A torpedo had been exploded in the harbor, an unfin- 
ished fort had been mined and blown up, and all this 
had been done to frighten him— a British soldier, in 
command of a strong fort, well garrisoned and fully 
supplied with all the munitions of war. In the fear 
that his fort would be destroyed by a mystical bomb, 
he was expected to march to a place of safety, with all 
his forces. If this should be done it would not be long 
before these crafty fellows would occupy the fort, and, 
36 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


with its great guns turned inland, would hold the city 
at their mercy. There could be no greater insult to 
a soldier than to suppose he could be gulled by a 
trick like this. 

No thought of actual danger entered the mind of 
the commandant. It had been easy enough to sink a 
great torpedo in the harbor, and the unguarded bluffs 
of Fort Pilcher offered every opportunity to the 
scoundrels, who may have worked at their mines 
through the nights of several months. But a mine 
under the fort which he commanded was an impossi- 
bility. Its guarded outposts prevented any such 
method of attack. At a bomb, or at a dozen or a hun- 
dred of the Syndicate’s bombs, he snapped his fingers. 
He could throw bombs as well. 

Nothing would please him better than that those 
ark -like ships in the offing should come near enough 
for an artillery fight. A few tons of solid shot and 
shell, dropped on top of them, might be a very con- 
clusive answer to their impudent demands. 

The letter from the Syndicate, together with his 
own convictions on the subject, were communicated by 
the commandant to the military authorities of the 
port, and to the War Office of the Dominion. The 
news of what had happened that day had already been 
cabled across the Atlantic, back to the United States, 
and all over the world, and the profound impression 
created by it was intensified when it became known 
what the Syndicate proposed to do the next day. 
Orders and advices from the British Admiralty and 
War Office sped across the ocean, and that night few 
of the leaders in government circles in England or 
Canada closed their eyes. 


37 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The opinions of the commandant of the fort were 
received with but little favor by the military and 
naval authorities. Great preparations were already 
ordered to repel and crush this most audacious attack 
upon the port, but, in the meantime, it was highly 
desirable that the utmost caution and prudence should 
be observed. Three men-of-war had already been 
disabled by the novel and destructive machines of the 
enemy, and it had been ordered that, for the present, 
no more vessels of the British Navy be allowed to 
approach the crabs of the Syndicate. 

Whether it was a mine or a bomb which had been 
used in the destruction of the unfinished works of 
Fort Pilcher, it would be impossible to determine 
until an official survey had been made of the ruins, 
but, in any event, it would be wise and humane not to 
expose the garrison of the fort on the south side of the 
harbor to the danger which had overtaken the works 
on the opposite shore. If, contrary to the opinion 
of the commandant, the garrisoned fort were really 
mined, the following day would probably prove the 
fact. Until this point should be determined, it would 
be highly judicious to evacuate the fort temporarily. 
This could not be followed by occupation of the works 
by the enemy, for all approaches, either by troops in 
boats or by bodies of confederates by land, could be 
fully covered by the inland redoubts and fortifications. 

When the orders for evacuation reached the com- 
mandant of the fort, he protested hotly, and urged 
that his protest be considered. It was not until the 
command had been reiterated, both from London and 
Ottawa, that he accepted the situation, and with bowed 
head prepared to leave his post. All night prepara- 
38 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


tions for evacuation went on, and during the next 
morning the garrison left the fort, and established 
itself far enough away to preclude danger from the 
explosion of a mine, but near enough to be available 
in case of necessity. 

During the morning there arrived in the offing 
another Syndicate vessel. This had started from a 
northern port of the United States, before the re- 
pellers and the crabs, and it had been engaged in 
laying a private submarine cable, which should put 
the office of the Syndicate in New York in direct 
communication with its naval forces engaged with the 
enemy. Telegraphic connection between the cable- 
boat and Kepeller No. 1 having been established, the 
Syndicate soon received from its Director-in-chief full 
and comprehensive accounts of what had been done 
and what it was proposed to do. Great was the satis- 
faction among the members of the Syndicate when 
these direct and official reports came in. Up to this 
time they had been obliged to depend upon very un- 
satisfactory intelligence communicated from Europe, 
which had been supplemented by wild statements and 
rumors smuggled across the Canadian border. 

To counteract the effect of these, a full report was 
immediately made by the Syndicate to the govern- 
ment of the United States, and a bulletin distinctly 
describing what had happened was issued to the people 
of the country. These reports, which received a world- 
wide circulation in the newspapers, created a popular 
elation in the United States, and gave rise to serious 
apprehensions and concern in many other countries. 
But under both elation and concern there was a certain 
doubtfulness. So far, the Syndicate had been success- 
39 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


ful, but its style of warfare was decidedly experi- 
mental, and its forces, in numerical strength at least, 
were weak. What would happen when the great 
naval power of Great Britain should be brought to 
bear upon the Syndicate, was a question whose prob- 
able answer was likely to cause apprehension and 
concern in the United States, and elation in many 
other countries. 

The commencement of active hostilities had been 
precipitated by this Syndicate. In England prepara- 
tions were making by day and by night to send upon 
the coast-lines of the United States a fleet which, in 
numbers and power, would be greater than that of any 
naval expedition in the history of the world. It is no 
wonder that many people of sober judgment in Amer- 
ica looked upon the affair of the crabs and the repel- 
lers as but an incident in the beginning of a great and 
disastrous war. 

On the morning of the destruction of Fort Pilcher, 
the Syndicate’s vessels moved toward the port, and 
the steel net was taken up by the two crabs, and 
moved nearer the mouth of the harbor, at a point from 
which the fort, now in process of evacuation, was in 
full view. When this had been done, Repeller ~No. 2 
took up her position at a moderate distance behind 
the net, and the other vessels stationed themselves 
near by. 

The protection of the net was considered necessary, 
for although there could be no reasonable doubt that 
all the torpedoes in the harbor and river had been 
exploded, others might be sent out against the Syn- 
dicate’s vessels, and a torpedo under a crab or a re- 
peller was the enemy most feared by the Syndicate. 

40 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


About three o’clock, the signals between the repel- 
lers became very frequent, and soon afterwards a 
truce-boat went out from Repeller No. 1. This was 
rowed with great rapidity, but it was obliged to go 
much farther up the harbor than on previous occa- 
sions, in order to deliver its message to an officer of 
the garrison. 

This was to the effect that the evacuation of the 
fort had been observed from the Syndicate’s vessels, 
and although it had been apparently complete, one 
of the scientific corps, with a powerful glass, had dis- 
covered a man in one of the outer redoubts, whose 
presence there was probably unknown to the officers 
of the garrison. It was, therefore, earnestly urged 
that this man be instantly removed, and, in order 
that this might be done, the discharge of the motor 
bomb would be postponed half an hour. 

The officer received this message, and was disposed 
to look upon it as a new trick ; but as no time was to 
be lost, he sent a corporal’s guard to the fort, and 
there discovered an Irish sergeant by the name of 
Kilsey, who had sworn an oath that, if the rest of 
men in the fort ran away like a lot of addle-pated 
sheep, he would not run with them : he would stand 
to his post to the last, and when the couple of ships 
outside had got through bombarding the stout walls 
of the fort, the world would see that there was at 
least one British soldier who was not afraid of a 
bomb, be it little or big. Therefore, he had managed 
to elude observation, and to remain behind. 

The sergeant was so hot-headed in his determina- 
tion to stand by the fort, that it required violence to 
remove him, and it was not until twenty minutes 
41 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


past four that the Syndicate observers perceived that 
he had been taken to the hill behind which the gar- 
rison was encamped. 

As it had been decided that Bepeller No. 2 should 
discharge the next Instantaneous Motor bomb, there 
was an anxious desire, on the part of the operators on 
that vessel, that in this, their first experience, they 
might do their duty as well as their comrades on 
board the other repeller had done theirs. The most 
accurate observations, the most careful calculations, 
were made and remade, the point to be aimed at 
being about the centre of the fort. 

The motor bomb had been in the cannon for nearly 
an hour, and everything had long been ready, when, 
at precisely thirty minutes past four o’clock, the signal 
to discharge came from the Director-in-chief, and in 
four seconds afterwards the index on the scale indi- 
cated that the gun was in the proper position, and 
the button was touched. 

The motor bomb was set to act the instant it should 
touch any portion of the fort, and the effect was 
different from that of the other bombs. There was a 
quick, hard shock, but it was all in the air. Thou- 
sands of panes of glass in the city and in houses fQr 
miles around were cracked or broken, birds fell dead 
or stunned upon the ground, and people on elevations 
at considerable distances felt as if they had received 
a blow ; but there was no trembling of the ground. 

As to the fort, it had entirely disappeared, its par- 
ticles having been instantaneously removed to a great 
distance in every direction, falling over such a vast 
expanse of land and water that their descent was 
unobservable. 


42 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


In the place where the fortress had stood there was 
a wide tract of bare earth, which looked as if it had 
been scraped into a staring dead level of gravel and 
clay. The Instantaneous Motor bomb had been ar- 
ranged to act almost horizontally. 

Few persons, except those who from a distance had 
been watching the fort with glasses, understood what 
had happened, but every one in the city and sur- 
rounding country was conscious that something had 
happened of a most startling kind, and that it was 
over in the same instant in which they had perceived 
it. Everywhere there was the noise of falling win- 
dow-glass. There were those who asserted that for 
an instant they had heard, in the distance, a grinding 
crash 5 and there were others who were quite sure 
they had noticed what might be called a flash of 
darkness— as if something had, with almost unap- 
preciable quickness, passed between them and the 
sun. 

When the officers of the garrison mounted the hill 
before them, and surveyed the place where their fort 
had been, there was not one of them who had suffi- 
cient command of himself to write a report of what 
had happened. They gazed at the bare, staring flat- 
ness of the shorn bluff, and they looked at each other. 
This was not war. It was something supernatural, 
awful ! They were not frightened. They were op- 
pressed and appalled. But the military discipline of 
their minds soon exerted its force, and a brief account 
of the terrific event was transmitted to the authori- 
ties, and Sergeant Kilsey was sentenced to a month 
in the guard-house. 

No one approached the vicinity of the bluff where 
43 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the fort had stood, for danger might not be over, but 
every possible point of observation within a safe dis- 
tance was soon crowded with anxious and terrified 
observers. A feeling of awe was noticeable every- 
where. If people could have had a tangible idea of 
what had occurred, it would have been different. If 
the sea had raged, if a vast body of water had been 
thrown into the air, if a dense cloud had been sud- 
denly ejected from the surface of the earth, they 
might have formed some opinion about it. But the 
instantaneous disappearance of a great fortification, 
with little more appreciable accompaniment than 
the sudden tap, as of a little hammer, upon thousands 
of window-panes, was something which their intel- 
lects could not grasp. It was not to be expected that 
the ordinary mind could appreciate the difference 
between the action of an Instantaneous Motor when 
embedded in rocks and earth, and its effect, when 
opposed by nothing but stone walls, upon or near the 
surface of the earth. 

Early the next morning, the little fleet of the Syn- 
dicate prepared to carry out its further orders. The 
waters of the lower bay were now entirely deserted, 
craft of every description having taken refuge in the 
upper part of the harbor, near and above the city. 
Therefore, as soon as it was light enough to make 
observations, Repeller No. 1 did not hesitate to dis- 
charge a motor bomb into the harbor, a mile or more 
above where the first one had fallen. This was done 
in order to explode any torpedoes which might have 
been put into position since the discharge of the first 
bomb. 

There were very few people in the city and suburbs 
44 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


who were at that hour out of doors where they could 
see the great cloud of water rise toward the sky, and 
behold it descend like a mighty cataract upon the 
harbor and adjacent shores, but the quick, sharp 
shock which ran under the town made people spring 
from their beds, and although nothing was then to 
be seen, nearly everybody felt sure that the Syndi- 
cate’s forces had begun their day’s work by explod- 
ing another mine. 

A lighthouse, the occupants of which had been 
ordered to leave when the fort was evacuated, as they 
might be in danger in case of a bombardment, was so 
shaken by the explosion of this motor bomb that it 
fell in ruins on the rocks upon which it had stood. 

The two crabs now took the steel net from its moor- 
ings and carried it up the harbor. This was rather 
difficult, on account of the islands, rocks, and sand- 
bars, but the leading crab had on board a pilot 
acquainted with those waters. With the net hanging 
between them, the two submerged vessels, one care- 
fully following the other, reached a point about two 
miles below the city, where the net was anchored 
across the harbor. It did not reach from shore to 
shore, but, in the course of the morning, two other 
nets, designed for shallower waters, were brought 
from the repellers and anchored at each end of the 
main net, thus forming a line of complete protection 
against submarine torpedoes which might be sent 
down from the upper harbor. 

Repeller No. 1 now steamed into the harbor, 
accompanied by Crab A, and anchored about a quarter 
of a mile seaward of the net. The other repeller, 
with her attendant crab, cruised about the mouth of 
45 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the harbor, watching a smaller entrance to the port, 
as well as the larger one, and thus maintaining an 
effective blockade. This was not a difficult duty, for, 
since the news of the extraordinary performances of 
the crabs had been spread abroad, no merchant- vessel, 
large or small, cared to approach that port, and strict 
orders had been issued by the British Admiralty that 
no vessel of the navy should, until further instructed, 
engage in combat with the peculiar craft of the Syn- 
dicate. Until a plan of action had been determined 
upon, it was very desirable that English cruisers 
should not be exposed to useless injury and danger. 

This being the state of affairs, a message was sent 
from the office of the Syndicate across the border 
to the Dominion government, which stated that the 
seaport city which had been attacked by the forces 
of the Syndicate now lay under the guns of its vessels, 
and, in case of any overt act of war by Great Britain 
or by Canada alone, such as the entrance of an armed 
force from British territory into the United States, or 
a capture of : or attack upon, an American vessel, naval 
or commercial, by a British man-of-war, or an attack 
upon an American port by British vessels, the city 
would be bombarded and destroyed. 

This message, which was, of course, instantly trans- 
mitted to London, placed the British government in 
the apparent position of being held by the throat by 
the American War Syndicate. But if the British 
government, or the people of England or Canada, 
recognized this position at all, it was merely as a 
temporary condition. In a short time the most 
powerful men-of-war of the Royal Navy, as well as a 
fleet of transports carrying troops, would reach the 
46 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


coasts of North America, and then the condition of 
affairs would rapidly be changed. It was absurd to 
suppose that a few medium-sized vessels, however 
heavily armored, or a few newfangled submarine 
machines, however destructive they might be, could 
withstand an armada of the largest and finest armored 
vessels in the world. A ship or two might be dis- 
abled, although this was unlikely, now that the new 
method of attack was understood, but it would soon 
be the ports of the United States, on both the Pacific 
and Atlantic coasts, which would lie under the guns 
of an enemy. 

But it was not in the power of their navy that the 
British government and the people of England and 
Canada placed their greatest trust, but in the inca- 
pacity of their petty foe to support its ridiculous as- 
sumptions. The claim that the city lay under the 
guns of the American Syndicate was considered ridic- 
ulous, for few people believed that these vessels had 
any guns. Certainly, there had been no evidence 
that any shots had been fired from them. In the 
opinion of reasonable people, the destruction of the 
forts and the explosions in the harbor had been 
caused by mines — mines of a new and terrifying 
power— which were the work of traitors and con- 
federates. The destruction of the lighthouse had 
strengthened this belief, for its fall was similar to 
that which would have been occasioned by a great 
explosion under its foundation. 

But, however terrifying and appalling had been the 
results of the explosion of these mines, it was not 
thought probable that there were any more of them. 
The explosions had taken place at exposed points 
47 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


distant from the city, and the most careful investiga- 
tion failed to discover any present signs of mining 
operations. 

This theory of mines worked by confederates was 
received throughout the civilized world, and was 
universally condemned. Even in the United States 
the feeling was so strong against this apparent alli- 
ance between the Syndicate and British traitors, that 
there was reason to believe that a popular pressure 
would be brought to bear upon the government suffi- 
cient to force it to break its contract with the Syndi- 
cate, and to carry on the war with the national army 
and navy. The crab was considered an admirable 
addition to the strength of the navy, but a mine under 
a fort, laid and fired by perfidious confederates, was 
considered unworthy of an enlightened people. 

The members of the Syndicate now found them- 
selves in an embarrassing and dangerous position,— a 
position in which they were placed by the universal 
incredulity regarding the Instantaneous Motor,— and, 
unless they could make the world believe that they 
really used such a motor bomb, the war could not be 
prosecuted on the plan projected. 

It was easy enough to convince the enemy of the 
terrible destruction the Syndicate was able to effect, 
but to make that enemy and the world understand 
that this was done by bombs, which could be used in 
one place as well as in another, was difficult indeed. 
They had attempted to prove this by announcing 
that at a certain time a bomb should be projected 
into a certain fort. Precisely at the specified time 
the fort had been destroyed, but nobody believed that 
a bomb had been fired. 


48 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Every opinion, official or popular, concerning what 
it had done, and what might be expected of it, was 
promptly forwarded to the Syndicate by its agents, 
and it was thus enabled to see very plainly indeed 
that the effect it had desired to produce had not been 
produced. Unless the enemy could be made to 
understand that any fort or ships within ten miles of 
one of the Syndicate’s cannon could be instantaneously 
dissipated in the shape of fine dust, this war could 
not be carried on upon the principles adopted, and, 
therefore, might as well pass out of the hands of the 
Syndicate. 

Day by day, and night by night, the state of affairs 
was anxiously considered at the office of the Syndi- 
cate in New York. A new and important undertak- 
ing was determined upon, and on the success of this 
the hopes of the Syndicate now depended. 

During the rapid and vigorous preparations which 
the Syndicate were now making for their new ven- 
ture, several events of interest occurred. 

Two of the largest Atlantic mail-steamers, carrying 
infantry and artillery troops, and conveyed by two 
swift and powerful men-of-war, arrived off the coast 
of Canada, considerably to the north of the blockaded 
city. The departure and probable time of arrival of 
these vessels had been telegraphed to the Syndicate, 
through one of the Continental cables, and a repeller, 
with two crabs, had been for some days waiting for 
them. The English vessels had taken a high north- 
ern course, hoping they might enter the Gulf of St. 
Lawrence without subjecting themselves to injury 
from the enemy’s crabs, it not being considered prob- 
able that there were enough of these vessels to patrol 
49 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the entire coast. But although the crabs were few in 
number, the Syndicate was able to place them where 
they would be of most use, and when the English 
vessels arrived off the northern entrance to the gulf, 
they found their enemies there. 

However strong might be the incredulity of the 
enemy regarding the powers of a repeller to bombard 
a city, the Syndicate felt sure there would be no 
present invasion of the United States from Canada, 
but it wished to convince the British government that 
troops and munitions of war could not be safely trans- 
ported across the Atlantic. On the other hand, the 
Syndicate very much objected to undertaking the 
imprisonment and sustenance of a large body of sol- 
diers. Orders were, therefore, given to the officer in 
charge of the repeller not to molest the two trans- 
ports, but to remove the rudders and extract the 
screws of the two war-vessels, leaving them to be 
towed into port by the troop -ships. 

This duty was performed by the crabs, while the 
British vessels, both rams, were preparing to make a 
united and vigorous onset on the repeller, and the two 
men-of-war were left hopelessly tossing on the waves. 
One of the transports, a very fast steamer, had already 
entered the straits, and could not be signalled, but 
the other one returned and took both the war-ships 
in tow, proceeding very slowly until, after entering 
the gulf, she was relieved by tug-boats. 

Another event of a somewhat different character 
was the occasion of much excited feeling and com- 
ment, particularly in the United States. The descent 
and attack by British vessels on an Atlantic port was 
a matter of popular expectation. The Syndicate had 
repellers and crabs at the most important points, 
50 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


but, in the minds of naval officers and a large portion 
of the people, little dependence for defence was to be 
placed upon these. As to the ability of the War 
Syndicate to prevent invasion or attack by means of 
its threats to bombard the blockaded Canadian port, 
very few believed in it. Even if the Syndicate could 
do any more damage in that quarter, which was im- 
probable, what was to prevent the British Navy from 
playing the same game, and, entering an American 
seaport, threaten to bombard the place if the Syndi- 
cate did not immediately run all their queer vessels 
high and dry on some convenient beach? 

A feeling of indignation against the Syndicate had 
•existed in the navy from the time the war contract 
had been made, and this feeling increased daily. 
That the officers and men of the United States Navy 
should be penned up in harbors, ports, and sounds, 
while British ships and the hulking mine-springers 
and rudder-pinchers of the Syndicate were allowed to 
roam the ocean at will, was a very hard thing for 
brave sailors to bear. Sometimes the resentment 
against this state of affairs rose almost to revolt. 

The great naval preparations of England were not 
yet complete, but single British men-of-war were now 
frequently seen off the Atlantic coast of the United 
States. No American vessels had been captured by 
these since the message of the Syndicate to the Do- 
minion of Canada and the British government. But 
one good reason for this was the fact that it was very 
difficult now to find upon the Atlantic Ocean a vessel 
sailing under the American flag. As far as possible, 
these had taken refuge in their own ports or in those 
of neutral countries. 

At the mouth of Delaware Bay, behind the great 
51 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

breakwater, was now collected a number of coastwise 
sailing-vessels and steamers of various classes and 
sizes, and, for the protection of these maritime ref- 
ugees, two vessels of the United States Navy were 
stationed at this point. These were the Lenox and 
Stockbridge , two of the finest cruisers in the service, 
and commanded by two of the most restless and 
brave officers of the American Navy. 

The appearance, early on a summer morning, of a 
large British cruiser off the mouth of the harbor, 
filled those two commanders with uncontrollable bel- 
ligerency. That, in time of war, a vessel of the enemy 
should be allowed, undisturbed, to sail up and down 
before an American harbor, while an American vessel, 
filled with brave American sailors, lay inside like a 
cowed dog, was a thought which goaded the soul of 
each of these commanders. There was a certain 
rivalry between the two ships, and, considering the 
insult offered by the flaunting red cross in the offing, 
and the humiliating restrictions imposed by the Navy 
Department, each commander thought only of his 
own ship, and not at all of the other. 

It was almost at the same time that the command- 
ers of the two ships separately came to the conclusion 
that the proper way to protect the fleet behind the 
breakwater was for his vessel to steam boldly out to 
sea and attack the British cruiser. If this vessel car- 
ried a long-range gun, what was to hinder her from 
suddenly running in closer and sending a few shells 
into the midst of the defenceless merchantmen? In 
fact, to go out and fight her was the only way to pro- 
tect the lives and property in the harbor. 

It was true that one of those beastly repellers was 
52 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


sneaking about off the cape, accompanied, probably, 
by an underwater tongs-boat. But as neither of these 
had done anything, or seemed likely to do anything, 
the British cruiser should be attacked without loss of 
time. 

When the commander of the Lenox came to this 
decision, his ship was well abreast of Cape Henlopen, 
and he, therefore, proceeded directly out to sea. There 
was a little fear in his mind that the English cruiser, 
which was now bearing to the southeast, might sail off 
and get away from him. The StocJcbridge was detained 
by the arrival of a despatch-boat from the shore with 
a message from the Navy Department. But as this 
message related only to the measurements of a certain 
deck-gun, her commander intended, as soon as an 
answer could be sent off, to sail out and give battle to 
the British vessel. 

Every soul on board the Lenox was now filled with 
fiery ardor. The ship was already in good fighting 
trim, but every possible preparation was made for a 
contest which should show their country and the 
world what American sailors were made of. 

The Lenox had not proceeded more than a mile out 
to sea, when she perceived Repeller No. 6 coming 
toward her from seaward, and in a direction which 
indicated that it intended to run across her course. 
The Lenox , however, went straight on, and in a short 
time the two vessels were quite near each other. 
Upon the deck of the repeller now appeared the 
director in charge, who, with a speaking-trumpet, 
hailed the Lenox , and requested her to lay to, as he 
had something to communicate. The commander of 
the Lenox, through his trumpet, answered that he 
53 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


wanted no communications, and advised the other 
vessel to keep out of his way. 

The Lenox now put on a greater head of steam, and 
as she was, in any case, a much faster vessel than the 
repeller, she rapidly increased the distance between 
herself and the Syndicate’s vessel, so that in a few 
moments hailing was impossible. Quick signals now 
shot up in jets of black smoke from the repeller, and 
in a very short time afterwards the speed of the Lenox 
slackened so much that the repeller was able to come 
up with her. 

When the two vessels were abreast of each other, and 
at a safe hailing distance apart, another signal went up 
from the repeller, and then both vessels almost ceased 
to move through the water, although the engines of 
the Lenox were working at high speed, with her pro- 
peller-blades stirring up a whirlpool at her stern. 

For a minute or two the officers of the Lenox could 
not comprehend what had happened. It was first sup- 
posed that by mistake the engines had been slackened, 
but, almost at the same moment that it was found 
this was not the case, the discovery was made that the 
crab accompanying the repeller had laid hold of the 
stern-post of the Lenox , and, with all the strength of 
her powerful engines, was holding her back. 

Now burst forth in the Lenox a storm of frenzied 
rage, such as was never seen, perhaps, upon any vessel, 
since vessels were first built. From the commander 
to the stokers, every heart was filled with fury at the 
insult which was put upon them. The commander 
roared through his trumpet that if that infernal sea- 
beetle were not immediately loosed from his ship, he 
would first sink her and then the repeller. 

54 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


To these remarks the director of the Syndicate’s 
vessels paid no attention, but proceeded to state, as 
briefly and forcibly as possible, that the Lenox had been 
detained in order that he might have an opportunity 
of speaking with her commander, and of informing 
him that his action in coming out of the harbor for 
the purpose of attacking a British vessel was in direct 
violation of the contract between the United States 
and the Syndicate having charge of the war, and that 
such action could not be allowed. 

The commander of the Lenox paid no more atten- 
tion to these words than the Syndicate’s director had 
given to those he had spoken, but immediately com- 
menced a violent attack upon the crab. It was im- 
possible to bring any of the large guns to bear upon 
her, for she was almost under the stern of the Lenox , 
but every means of offence which infuriated ingenuity 
could suggest was used against it. Machine-guns 
were trained to fire almost perpendicularly, and shot 
after shot was poured upon that portion of its glisten- 
ing back which appeared above the water. 

But, as these projectiles seemed to have no effect 
upon the solid back of Crab H, two great anvils were 
hoisted at the end of the spanker-boom, and dropped, 
one after the other, upon it. The shocks were tre- 
mendous, but the internal construction of the crabs 
provided, by means of upright beams, against injury 
from attacks of this kind, and the great masses of iron 
slid off into the sea without doing any damage. 

Finding it impossible to make any impression upon 
the mailed monster at his stern, the commander of the 
Lenox hailed the director of the repeller, and swore 
to him, through his trumpet, that if he did not imme- 
55 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


diately order the Lenox to be set free, her heaviest 
guns should be brought to bear upon his floating 
counting-house, and that it should be sunk, if it took 
all day to do it. 

It would have been a grim satisfaction to the com- 
mander of the Lenox to sink Repeller No. 6, for he had 
known the vessel when she had belonged to the United 
States Navy. Before she had been bought by the 
Syndicate, and fitted out with spring armor, he had 
made two long cruises in her, and he bitterly hated 
her, from her keel up. 

The director of the repeller agreed to release the 
Lenox the instant her commander would consent to 
return to port. No answer was made to this proposi- 
tion, but a dynamite-gun on the Lenox was brought 
to bear upon the Syndicate’s vessel. Desiring to 
avoid any complications which might ensue from 
actions of this sort, the repeller steamed ahead, 
while the director signalled Crab H to move the 
stern of the Lenox to the windward, which being 
quickly done, the gun of the latter bore upon the 
distant coast. 

It was now very plain to the Syndicate director 
that his words had no effect upon the commander 
of the Lenox , and he, therefore, signalled Crab H 
to tow the United States vessel into port. When 
the commander of the Lenox saw that his vessel was 
beginning to move backward, he gave instant orders 
to put on all steam. But this was found to be useless, 
for, when the dynamite-gun was about to be fired, the 
engines had been ordered stopped, and the moment 
that the propeller -blades ceased moving, the nippers 
of the crab had been released from their hold upon 
56 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the stern-post, and the propeller-blades of the Lenox 
were gently but firmly seized in a grasp which in- 
cluded the rudder. It was, therefore, impossible for 
the engines of the vessel to revolve the propeller, 
and, unresistingly, the Lenox was towed, stern fore- 
most, to the breakwater. 

The news of this incident created the wildest indig- 
nation in the United States Navy, and throughout the 
country the condemnation of what was considered the 
insulting action of the Syndicate was general. In 
foreign countries the affair was the subject of a good 
deal of comment, but it was also the occasion of much 
serious consideration, for it proved that one of the 
Syndicate’s submerged vessels could, without firing a 
gun, and without fear of injury to itself, capture a 
man-of-war and tow it whither it pleased. 

The authorities at Washington took instant action 
on the affair, and, as it was quite evident that the 
contract between the United States and the Syndicate 
had been violated by the Lenox 7 the commander of 
that vessel was reprimanded by the Secretary of the 
Navy, and enjoined that there should be no repeti- 
tions of his offence. But, as the commander of the 
Lenox knew that the Secretary of the Navy was as 
angry as he was at what had happened, he did not 
feel his reprimand to be in any way a disgrace. 

It may be stated that the StocJcbridge , which had 
steamed for the open sea as soon as the business which 
had detained her was completed, did not go outside 
the cape. When her officers perceived, with their 
glasses, that the Lenox was returning to port, stern 
foremost, they opined what had happened, and, desir- 
ing that their ship should do all her sailing in the 
57 


p 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

natural va y, the Stockbridge was put about, and 
steamed, bow foremost, to her anchorage behind the 
breakwater, the commander thanking his stars that, 
for once, the Lenox had got ahead of him. 

The members of the Syndicate were very anxious to 
remove the unfavorable impression regarding what 
was called, in many quarters, their attack upon a 
United States vessel, and a circular to the public was 
issued, in which they expressed their deep regret at 
being obliged to interfere with so many brave officers 
and men in a moment of patriotic enthusiasm, and 
explaining how absolutely necessary it was that the 
Lenox should be removed from a position where a 
conflict with English line-of-battle ships would be 
probable. There were many thinking persons who 
saw the weight of the Syndicate’s statements, but the 
effect of the circular upon the popular mind was not 
great. 

The Syndicate was now hard at work, making prep- 
arations for the grand stroke which had been deter- 
mined upon. In the whole country there was scarcely 
a man whose ability could be made available in their 
work, who was not engaged in their service, and 
everywhere, in foundries, workshops, and shipyards, 
the construction of their engines of war was being car- 
ried on, by day and by night. No contracts were 
made for the delivery of work at certain times ; every- 
thing was done under the direct supervision of the 
Syndicate and its subordinates, and the work went on 
with a definiteness and rapidity hitherto unknown in 
naval construction. 

In the midst of the Syndicate’s labors, there arrived 
off the coast of Canada the first result of Great Brit- 


58 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

ain’s preparations for her war with the American 
Syndicate, in the shape of the Adamant , the largest 
and finest ironclad which had ever crossed the Atlan- 
tic, and which had been sent to raise the blockade of 
the Canadian port by the Syndicate’s vessels. 

This great ship had been especially fitted out to 
engage in combat with repellers and crabs. As far as 
was possible, the peculiar construction of the Syndi- 
cate’s vessels had been carefully studied, and English 
specialists in the line of naval construction and ord- 
nance had given most earnest consideration to methods 
of attack and defence most likely to succeed with 
these novel ships of war. The Adamant was the only 
vessel which it had been possible to send out in so 
short a time, and her cruise was somewhat of an ex- 
periment. If she should be successful in raising the 
blockade of the Canadian port, the British Admiralty 
would have but little difficulty in dealing with the 
American Syndicate. 

The most important object was to provide a defence 
against the screw-extracting and rudder -breaking 
crabs, and, to this end, the Adamant had been fitted 
with what was termed a u stern-jacket.” This was a 
great cage of heavy steel bars, which was attached to 
the stern of the vessel in such a way that it could be 
raised high above the water, so as to offer no impedi- 
ment, while under way, but which, in time of action, 
could be let down so as to surround and protect the 
rudder and screw-propellers, of which the Adamant 
had two. 

This was considered an adequate defence against 
the nippers of a Syndicate crab, but as a means of 
offence against these almost submerged vessels a novel 
59 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


contrivance had been adopted. From a great boom 
projecting over the stern, a large ship’s cannon was 
suspended perpendicularly, muzzle downward. This 
gun could be swung around to the deck, hoisted into 
a horizontal position, and loaded with a heavy charge, 
a wooden plug keeping the load in position when the 
gun hung perpendicularly. 

If the crab should come under the stern, this can- 
non could be fired directly downward upon her back, 
and it was not believed that any vessel of the kind 
could stand many such tremendous shocks. It was 
not known exactly how ventilation was supplied to 
the submarine vessels of the Syndicate, nor how the 
occupants were enabled to make the necessary obser- 
vations during action. When under way, the crabs 
sailed somewhat elevated above the water, but when 
engaged with an enemy only a small portion of their 
covering armor could be seen. 

It was surmised that under and between some of 
the scales of this armor there was some arrangement 
of thick glasses, through which the necessary observa- 
tion could be made, and it was believed that, even if 
the heavy perpendicular shots did not crush in the 
roof of a crab, these glasses would be shattered by 
concussion. Although this might appear a matter of 
slight importance, it was thought among naval offi- 
cers it would necessitate the withdrawal of a crab 
from action. 

In consequence of the idea that the crabs were 
vulnerable between their overlapping plates, some of 
the AdamanVs boats were fitted out with Gatling and 
machine guns, by which a shower of balls might be 
sent under the scales, through the glasses, and into 
60 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the body of the crab. In addition to their guns, 
these boats would be supplied with other means of 
attack upon the crab. 

Of course, it would be impossible to destroy these 
submerged enemies by means of dynamite or torpe- 
does, for, with two vessels in close proximity, the 
explosion of a torpedo would be as dangerous to the 
hull of one as to the other. The British Admiralty 
would not allow even the Adamant to explode torpe- 
does or dynamite under her own stern. 

With regard to a repeller, or spring-armored vessel, 
the Adamant would rely upon her exceptionally 
powerful armament, and upon her great weight and 
speed. She was fitted with twin screws and engines 
of the highest power, and it was believed that she 
would be able to overhaul, ram, and crush the largest 
vessel, armored or unarmored, which the Syndicate 
would be able to bring against her. Some of her 
guns were of immense caliber, firing shot weighing 
nearly two thousand pounds, and requiring half a ton 
of powder for each charge. Besides these, she carried 
an unusual number of large cannon and two dyna- 
mite-guns. She was so heavily plated and armored 
as to be proof against any known artillery in the 
world. 

She was a floating fortress, with men enough to 
make up the population of a town, and with stores, 
ammunition, and coal sufficient to last for a long term 
of active service. Such was the mighty English 
battle ship which had come forward to raise the siege 
of the Canadian port. 

The officers of the Syndicate were well aware of 
the character of the Adamant , her armament and her 
61 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


defences, and had been informed by cable of her time 
of. sailing and probable destination. They sent out 
Repeller No. 7, with Crabs J and K, to meet her off 
the banks of Newfoundland. 

This repeller was the largest and strongest vessel 
that the Syndicate had ready for service. In addi- 
tion to the spring armor with which these vessels 
were supplied, this one was furnished with a second 
coat of armor outside the first, the elastic steel ribs of 
which ran longitudinally and at right angles to those 
of the inner set. Both coats were furnished with a 
great number of improved air-buffers, . and the ar- 
rangement of spring armor extended five or six feet 
beyond the massive steel plates with which the vessel 
was originally armored. She carried one motor cannon 
of large size. 

One of the crabs was of the ordinary pattern, but 
Crab K was furnished with a spring armor above the 
heavy plates of her roof. This had been placed upon 
her after the news had been received by the Syndi- 
cate that the Adamant would carry a perpendicular 
cannon over her stern, but there had not been time 
enough to fit out another crab in the same way. 

When the director in charge of Repeller No. 7 first 
caught sight of the Adamant , and scanned through his 
glass the vast proportions of the mighty ship which 
was rapidly steaming toward the coast, he felt that 
a responsibility rested upon him heavier than any 
which had yet been borne by an officer of the Syndi- 
cate y but he did not hesitate in the duty which he 
had been sent to perform, and immediately ordered 
the two crabs to advance to meet the Adamant , and to 
proceed to action according to the instructions which 
62 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


they had previously received. His own ship was 
kept, in pursuance of orders, several miles distant 
from the British ship. 

As soon as the repeller had been sighted from the 
Adamant , a strict lookout had been kept for the ap- 
proach of crabs, and when the small exposed portions 
of the backs of two of these were perceived, glistening 
in the sunlight, the speed of the great ship slackened. 
The ability of the Syndicate’s submerged vessels to 
move suddenly and quickly in any direction had been 
clearly demonstrated, and although a great ironclad 
with a ram could run down and sink a crab without 
feeling the concussion, it was known that it would be 
perfectly easy for the smaller craft to keep out of the 
way of its bulky antagonist. Therefore, the Adamant 
did not try to ram the crabs, nor to get away from 
them. Her commander intended, if possible, to run 
down one or both of them, but he did not propose to 
do this in the usual way. 

As the crabs approached, the stern -jacket of the 
Adamant was let down, and the engines were slowed. 
This stern-jacket, when protecting the rudder and 
propellers, looked very much like the cow-catcher of 
a locomotive, and was capable of being put to a some- 
what similar use. It was the intention of the captain 
of the Adamant , should the crabs attempt to attach 
themselves to his stern, suddenly to put on all steam, 
reverse his engines, and back upon them, the stern- 
jacket answering as a ram. 

The commander of the Adamant had no doubt that 
in this way he could run into a crab, roll it over in 
the water, and when it was lying bottom upward, like 
a floating cask, he could move his ship to a distance, 
63 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


and make a target of it. So desirous was this brave 
and somewhat facetious captain to try his new plan 
upon a crab, that he forebore to fire upon the two 
vessels of that class which were approaching h i m. 
Some of his guns were so mounted that their muzzles 
could be greatly depressed, and aimed at an object in 
the water not far from the ship. But these were not 
discharged, and, indeed, the crabs, which were new 
ones of unusual swiftness, were alongside the Adamant 
in an incredibly short time, and out of the range of 
these guns. 

Crab J was on the starboard side of the Adamant , 
Crab K was on the port side, and, simultaneously, the 
two laid hold of her. But they were not directly 
astern of the great vessel. Each had its nippers 
fastened to one side of the stern-jacket, near the 
hinge-like bolts which held it to the vessel, and on 
which it was raised and lowered. 

In a moment the Adamant began to steam backward. 
But the only effect of this motion, which soon became 
rapid, was to swing the crabs around against her 
sides, and carry them with her. As the vessels were 
thus moving, the great pincers of the crabs were 
twisted with tremendous force, the stern -jacket on 
one side was broken from its bolt, and on the other 
the bolt itself was drawn out of the side of the vessel. 
The nippers then opened, and the stern-jacket fell 
from their grasp into the sea, snapping, in its fall, the 
chain by which it had been raised and lowered. 

This disaster occurred so quickly that few persons 
on board the Adamant knew what had happened. 
But the captain, who had seen everything, gave 
instant orders to go ahead at full speed. The first 
64 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


thing to be done was to get at a distance from those 
crabs, keep well away from them, and pound them to 
pieces with his heavy guns. 

But the iron screw-propellers had scarcely begun 
to move in the opposite direction, before the two 
crabs, each now lying at right angles with the length 
of the ship, but neither of them directly astern of her, 
made a dash with open nippers, and Crab J fastened 
upon one propeller, while Crab K laid hold of the 
other. There was a din and crash of breaking metal, 
two shocks which were felt throughout the vessel, and 
the shattered and crushed blades of the propellers of 
the great battle-ship were powerless to move her. 

The captain of the Adamant , pallid with fury, stood 
upon the poop. In a moment the crabs would be 
at his rudder! The great gun, double -shotted and 
ready to fire, was hanging from its boom over the 
stern. Crab K, whose roof had the additional pro- 
tection of spring armor, now moved round so as to be 
directly astern of the Adamant Before she could 
reach the rudder, her forward part came under the 
suspended cannon, and two massive steel shot were 
driven down upon her with a force sufficient to send 
them through masses of solid rock. But from the 
surface of elastic steel springs and air -buffers they 
rebounded upward, one of them almost falling on the 
deck of the Adamant 

The gunners of this piece had been well trained. 
In a moment the boom was swung around, the cannon 
reloaded, and when Crab K fixed her nippers on the 
rudder of the Adamant , two more shot came down 
upon her. As in the first instance, she dipped and 
rolled, but the ribs of her uninjured armor had 

65 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


scarcely sprung back into their places, before her 
nippers turned, and the rudder of the Adamant was 
broken in two, and the upper portion dragged from 
its fastenings ; then a quick backward jerk snapped 
its chains, and it was dropped into the sea. 

A signal was now sent from Crab J to Repeller 
No. 7, to the effect that the Adamant had been ren- 
dered incapable of steaming or sailing, and that she 
lay subject to order. 

Subject to order or not, the Adamant did not lie 
passive. Every gun on board, which could be suffi- 
ciently depressed, was made ready to fire upon the 
crabs, should they attempt to get away. Four large 
boats, furnished with machine-guns, grapnels, and 
with various appliances which might be brought into 
use on a steel-plated roof, were lowered from their 
davits, and immediately began firing upon the ex- 
posed portions of the crabs. Their machine-guns 
were loaded with small shells, and if these penetrated 
under the horizontal plates of a crab, and through 
the heavy glass which was supposed to be in these 
interstices, the crew of the submerged craft soon would 
be soon destroyed. 

The quick eye of the captain of the Adamant had 
observed, through his glass, while the crabs were still 
at a considerable distance, their protruding air-pipes, 
and he had instructed the officers in charge of the 
boats to make an especial attack upon these. If the 
air-pipes of a crab could be rendered useless, the crew 
must inevitably be smothered. 

But the brave captain did not know that the con- 
densed-air chambers of the crabs would supply their 
inmates for an hour or more without recourse to the 


66 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


outer air, and that the air-pipes, furnished with 
valves at the top, were always withdrawn under 
water during action with an enemy. Nor did he 
know that the glass blocks under the armor-plates of 
the crabs, which were placed in rubber frames to 
protect them from concussion above, were also guarded, 
by steel netting, from injury by small balls. 

Valiantly the boats beset the crabs, keeping up a 
constant fusillade, and endeavoring to throw grapnels 
over them. If one of these should catch under an 
overlapping armor-plate, it could be connected with 
the steam- windlass of the Adamant , and a plate might 
be ripped off, or a crab overturned. 

But the crabs proved to be much more lively fish 
than their enemies had supposed. Turning, as if on 
a pivot, and darting from side to side, they seemed 
to be playing with the boats, and not trying to get 
away from them. The spring armor of Crab K inter- 
fered somewhat with its movements, and also put it 
in danger from attacks by grapnels, and it, therefore, 
left most of the work to its consort. 

Crab J, after darting swiftly in and out among her 
antagonists for some time, suddenly made a turn, and 
dashing at one of the boats, ran under it, and raising 
it on its glistening back, rolled it, bottom upward, 
into the sea. In a moment the crew of the boat were 
swimming for their lives. They were quickly picked 
up by two of the other boats, which then deemed it 
prudent to return to the ship. 

But the second officer of the Adamant , who com- 
manded the fourth boat, did not give up the fight. 

Having noted the spring armor of Crab K, he be- 
lieved that, if he could get a grapnel between its steel 
67 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


ribs, be yet might capture the sea-monster. For some 
minutes Crab K contented itself with eluding him, 
but, tired of this, it turned and, raising its huge nip- 
pers almost out of the water, seized the bow of the 
boat, and gave it a gentle crunch, after which it re- 
leased its hold and retired. The boat, leaking rapidly 
through two ragged holes, was rowed back to the 
ship, which it reached half full of water. 

The great battle-ship, totally bereft of the power of 
moving herself, was now rolling in the trough of the 
sea, and a signal came from the repeller for Crab K to 
make fast to her and put her head to the wind. This 
was quickly done, the crab attaching itself to the 
stern-post of the Adamant by a pair of towing-nippers. 
These were projected from the stern of the crab, and 
were so constructed that the larger vessel did not 
communicate all its motion to the smaller one, and 
could not run down upon it. 

As soon as the Adamant was brought up with her 
head to the wind, she opened fire upon the repeller. 
The latter vessel could easily have sailed out of the 
range of a motionless enemy, but her orders for- 
bade this. Her director had been instructed by the 
Syndicate to expose his vessel to the fire of the 
AdamanVs heavy guns. Accordingly, the repeller 
steamed nearer, and turned her broadside toward 
the British ship. 

Scarcely had this been done, when the two great 
bow guns of the Adamant shook the air with tremen- 
dous roars, each hurling over the sea nearly a ton of 
steel. One of these great shot passed over the repel- 
ler, but the other struck her armored side fairly 
amidship. There was a crash and scream of creaking 
68 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


steel, and Repeller No. 7 rolled over to windward as 
if she had been struck by a heavy sea. In a moment 
she righted and shot ahead, and, turning, presented 
her port side to the enemy. Instant examination of 
the armor on her other side showed that the two 
banks of springs were uninjured, and that not an air- 
buffer had exploded or failed to spring back to its 
normal length. 

Firing from the Adamant now came thick and fast, 
the crab, in obedience to signals, turning her about so 
as to admit the firing of some heavy guns mounted 
amidships. Three enormous solid shot struck the 
repeller at different points on her starboard armor 
without inflicting damage, while the explosion of 
several shells which hit her had no more effect upon 
her elastic armor than the impact of the solid shot. 

It was the desire of the Syndicate not only to dem- 
onstrate to its own satisfaction the efficiency of its 
spring armor, but to convince Great Britain that her 
heaviest guns on her mightiest battle-ships could 
have no effect upon its armored vessels. To prove 
the absolute superiority of their means of offence and 
defence was the supreme object of the Syndicate. 
For this its members studied and worked by day and 
by night $ for this they poured out their millions ; for 
this they waged war. To prove what they claimed 
would be victory. 

When Repeller No. 7 had sustained the heavy fire 
of the Adamant for about half an hour, it was con- 
sidered that the strength of her armor had been suffi- 
ciently demonstrated, and, with a much lighter heart 
than when he had turned her broadside to the Ada- 
mant, her director gave orders that she should steam 
69 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


out of the range of the guns of the British ship. 
During the cannonade, Crab J had quietly slipped 
away from the vicinity of the Adamant, and now 
joined the repeller. 

The great ironclad battle-ship, with her lofty sides 
plated with nearly two feet of solid steel, with her six 
great guns, each weighing more than a hundred tons, 
with her armament of other guns, machine-cannon, 
and almost every appliance of naval warfare, with a 
small army of officers and men on board, was left in 
charge of Crab K, of which only a few square yards 
of armored roof could be seen above the water. This 
little vessel now proceeded to tow southward her vast 
prize, uninjured, except that her rudder and pro- 
peller-blades were broken and useless. 

Although the engines of the crab were of enormous 
power, the progress made was slow, for the Adamant 
was being towed stern foremost. It would have been 
easier to tow the great vessel had the crab been 
attached to her bow, but a ram which extended many 
feet under water rendered it dangerous for a sub- 
merged vessel to attach itself in its vicinity. 

During the night the repeller kept company, 
although at a considerable distance, with the cap- 
tured vessel, and early the next morning her director 
prepared to send to the Adamant a boat with a flag 
of truce, and a letter demanding the surrender and 
subsequent evacuation of the British ship. It was 
supposed that now, when the officers of th e a Adamant 
had had time to appreciate the fact that they had 
no control over the movements of their vessel, that 
their armament was powerless against their enemies, 
and that the Adamant could be towed wherever the 


70 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Syndicate chose to order, or left helpless in mid-ocean, 
they would be obliged to admit that there was nothing 
for them to do but to surrender. 

But events proved that no such ideas had entered 
the minds of the Adamant’s officers, and their action 
totally prevented sending a flag-of-truce boat. As 
soon as it was light enough to see the repeller, the 
Adamant began firing great guns at her. She was too 
far away for the shot to strike her, but to launch and 
send a boat of any kind into a storm of shot and shell 
was, of course, impossible. 

The cannon suspended over the stern of the Ada- 
mant was also again brought into play, and shot after 
shot was driven down upon the towing crab. Every 
ball rebounded from the spring armor, but the officer 
in charge of the crab became convinced that after a 
time this constant pounding, almost in the same place, 
would injure his vessel, and he signalled the repeller 
to that effect. 

The director of Bepeller No. 7 had been considering 
the situation. There was only one gun on the Ada- 
mant which could be brought to bear upon Crab K, 
and it would be the part of wisdom to interfere with 
the persistent use of this gun. Accordingly, the bow 
of the repeller was brought to bear upon the Adamant , 
and her motor gun was aimed at the boom from which 
the cannon was suspended. 

The projectile with which the cannon was loaded 
was not an Instantaneous Motor bomb. It was simply 
a heavy solid shot, driven by an Instantaneous Motor 
attachment, and was thus impelled by the same 
power and in the same manner as the motor bombs. 
The Instantaneous Motor power had not yet been 
71 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


used at so great a distance as that between the repel - 
ler and the Adamant , and the occasion was one of 
intense interest to the small body of scientific men 
having charge of the aiming and firing. 

The calculations of the distance, of the necessary 
elevation and direction, and of the degree of motor 
power required, were made with careful exactness, 
and when the proper instant arrived the button was 
touched, and the shot with which the cannon was 
charged was instantaneously removed to a point in 
the ocean about a mile beyond the Adamant , accom- 
panied by a large portion of the heavy boom at which 
the gun had been aimed. 

The cannon which had been suspended from the 
end of this boom fell into the sea, and would have 
crashed down upon the roof of Crab K, had not that 
vessel, in obedience to a signal from the repeller, 
loosened its hold upon the Adamant and retired a 
short distance astern. Material injury might not 
have resulted from the fall of this great mass of metal 
upon the crab, but it was considered prudent not to 
take useless risks. 

The officers of the Adamant were greatly surprised 
and chagrined by the fall of their gun, with which 
they had expected ultimately to pound in the roof of 
the crab. No damage had been done to the vessel, 
except the removal of a portion of the boom, with 
some of the chains and blocks attached, and no one 
on board the British ship imagined for a moment that 
this injury had been occasioned by the distant re- 
peller. It was supposed that the constant firing of 
the cannon had cracked the boom, and that it had 
suddenly snapped. 


72 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Even if there had been on board the Adamant the 
means for rigging up another arrangement of the 
kind for perpendicular artillery practice, it would 
have required a long time to get it into working 
order, and the director of Repeller No. 7 hoped that 
now the British captain would see the uselessness of 
continued resistance. 

But the British captain saw nothing of the kind, 
and shot after shot from his guns were hurled high 
into the air, in hopes that the great curves described 
would bring some of them down on the deck of the 
repeller. If this beastly store-ship, which could stand 
fire but never returned it, could be sunk, the Ada- 
mant’s captain would be happy. With the exception 
of the loss of her motive power, his vessel was intact, 
and if the stupid crab would only continue to keep 
the Adamant’s head to the sea until the noise of her 
cannonade should attract some other British vessel to 
the scene, the condition of affairs might be altered. 

All that day the great guns of the Adamant con- 
tinued to roar. The next morning, however, the 
firing was not resumed, and the officers of the repeller 
were greatly surprised to see approaching from the 
British ship a boat carrying a white flag. This was a 
very welcome sight, and the arrival of the boat was 
awaited with eager interest. 

During the night a council had been held on board 
the Adamant. Her cannonading had had no effect, 
either in bringing assistance or in injuring the enemy ; 
she was being towed steadily southward farther and 
farther from the probable neighborhood of a British 
man-of-war, and it was agreed that it would be the part 
of wisdom to come to terms with the Syndicate’s vessel. 

73 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Therefore, the captain of the Adamant sent a letter 
to the repeller, in which he stated to the persons in 
charge of that ship that, although his vessel had been 
injured in a manner totally at variance with the 
rules of naval warfare, he would overlook this fact, 
and would agree to cease firing upon the Syndicate’s 
vessels, provided that the submerged craft which was 
now made fast to his vessel should attach itself to the 
Adamanfs bow, and, by means of a suitable cable, 
which she would furnish, would tow her into British 
waters. If this were done, he would guarantee that 
the towing craft should have six hours in which to 
get away. 

When this letter was read on board the repeller, it 
created considerable merriment, and an answer was 
sent back that no conditions but those of absolute 
surrender could be received from the British ship. 

In three minutes after this answer had been re- 
ceived by the captain of the Adamant , two shells went 
whirring and shrieking through the air toward Ke- 
peller No. 7, and after that the cannonading from the 
bow, the stern, the starboard, and the port guns of 
the great battle-ship went on whenever there was a 
visible object on the ocean which looked in the least 
like an American coasting- vessel or man-of-war. 

For a week Crab K towed steadily to the south 
this blazing and thundering marine citadel, and then 
the crab signalled to the still accompanying repeller 
that it must be relieved. It had not been fitted out 
for so long a cruise, and supplies were getting low. 

The Syndicate, which had been kept informed of 
all the details of this affair, had already perceived 
the necessity of relieving Crab K, and another crab, 
74 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


well provisioned and fitted out, was already on the 
way to take its place. This was Crab C, possessing 
powerful engines, but in point of roof armor the 
weakest of its class. It could be better spared than 
any other crab to tow the Adamant , and as the British 
ship had not, and probably could not, put out an- 
other suspended cannon, it was considered quite suit- 
able for the service required. 

But when Crab C came within half a mile of the 
Adamant , it stopped. It was evident that on board 
the British ship a steady lookout had been main- 
tained for the approach of fresh crabs, for several 
enormous shell and shot from heavy guns, which had 
been trained upward at a high angle, now fell into 
the sea a short distance from the crab. 

Crab C would not have feared these heavy shot, had 
they been fired from an ordinary elevation ; and al- 
though no other vessel in the Syndicate’s service 
would have hesitated to run the terrible gantlet, this 
one, by reason of errors in construction, being less 
able than any other crab to resist the fall from a great 
height of ponderous shot and shell, thought it prudent 
not to venture into this rain of iron, and, moving 
rapidly beyond the line of danger, it attempted to 
approach the Adamant from another quarter. If it 
could get within the circle of falling shot, it would be 
safe. But this it could not do. On all sides of the 
Adamant , guns had been trained to drop shot and 
shell at a distance of half a mile from the ship. 

Around and around the mighty ironclad steamed 
Crab C. But, wherever she went, her presence was 
betrayed to the fine glasses on board the Adamant by 
the bit of her shining back and the ripple about it, 
75 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


and ever between her and the ship came down that 
hail of iron in masses of a quarter-ton, half-ton, or 
nearly a whole ton. Crab C could not venture under 
these, and all day she accompanied the Adamant on 
her voyage south, dashing to this side and that, and 
looking for the chance that did not come, for all day 
the cannon of the battle-ship roared at her, wherever 
she might be. 

The inmates of Crab K were now very restive and 
uneasy, for they were on short rations, both of food 
and water. They would have been glad enough to 
cast loose from the Adamant , and leave the spiteful 
ship to roll to her heart’s content, broadside to the 
sea. They did not fear to run their vessel, with its 
thick roof-plates protected by spring armor, through 
the heaviest cannonade. 

But signals from the repeller commanded them to 
stay by the Adamant as long as they could hold out, 
and they were obliged to content themselves with a 
hope that, when night fell, the other crab would be 
able to get in under the stern of the Adamant , and 
make the desired exchange. 

But, to the great discomfiture of the Syndicate’s 
forces, darkness had scarcely come on before four 
enormous electric lights blazed high up on the single 
lofty mast of the Adamant , lighting up the ocean for a 
mile on every side of the ship. It was of no more use 
for Crab C to try to get in now than in broad day- 
light, and all night the great guns roared, and the 
little crab manoeuvred. 

The next morning a heavy fog fell upon the sea, 
and the battle-ship and Crab C were completely shut 
out of sight of each other. Now the cannon of the 
76 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Adamant were silent, for the only result of firing 
would be to indicate to the crab the location of the 
British ship. The smoke-signals of the towing crab 
could not be seen through the fog by her consorts, 
and she seemed to be incapable of making signals by 
sound. Therefore, the commander of the Adamant 
thought it likely that, until the fog rose, the crab could 
not find his ship. 

What that other crab intended to do could be, of 
course, only a surmise on board the Adamant , but it 
was believed that she would bring with her a torpedo, 
to be exploded under the British ship. That one 
crab should tow her away from possible aid until 
another should bring a torpedo to fasten to her stern- 
post seemed a reasonable explanation of the action of 
the Syndicate’s vessels. 

The officers of the Adamant little understood the 
resources and intentions of their opponents. Every 
vessel of the Syndicate carried a magnetic indicator, 
which was designed to prevent collisions with iron 
vessels. This little instrument was placed at night 
and during fogs at the bow of the vessel, and a deli- 
cate arm of steel, which ordinarily pointed upward at 
a considerable angle, fell into a horizontal position 
when any large body of iron approached within a 
quarter of a mile, and, in falling, rang a small bell. 
Its point then turned toward the mass of iron. 

Soon after the fog came on, one of these indicators, 
properly protected from the attraction of the metal 
about it, was put into position on Crab C. Before 
very long it indicated the proximity of the Adamant , 
and, guided by its steel point, the crab moved quietly 
to the ironclad, attached itself to its stern-post, and 
77 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


allowed the happy crew of Crab K to depart coast- 
ward. 

When the fog rose, the glasses of the Adamant 
showed the approach of no crab, but it was observed, 
in looking over the stern, that the beggarly devil-fish 
which had the ship in tow appeared to have made 
some change in its back. 

In the afternoon of that day a truce-boat was sent 
from the repeller to the Adamant. It was allowed to 
come alongside, but when the British captain found 
that the Syndicate merely renewed its demand for his 
surrender, he waxed fiercely angry, and sent the boat 
back with the word that no further message need be 
sent to him, unless it should be one complying with 
the conditions he had offered. 

The Syndicate now gave up the task of inducing 
the captain of the Adamant to surrender. Crab C 
was commanded to continue towing the great ship 
southward, and to keep her well away from the coast, 
in order to avoid danger to seaport towns and coast- 
ing vessels, while the repeller steamed away. 

Week after week the Adamant moved southward, 
roaring away with her great guns whenever an 
American sail came within possible range, and sur- 
rounding herself with a circle of bursting bombs to 
let any crab know what it might expect if it at- 
tempted to come near. Blazing and thundering, stern 
foremost, but stoutly, she rode the waves, ready to 
show the world that she was an impregnable British 
battle-ship, from which no enemy could snatch the 
royal colors which floated high above her. 

It was during the first week of the involuntary 
cruise of the Adamant that the Syndicate finished its 
78 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


preparations for what it hoped would he the decisive 
movement of its campaign. To do this, a repeller 
and six crabs, all with extraordinary powers, had 
been fitted out with great care, and also with great 
rapidity, for the British government was working 
night and day to get its fleet of ironclads in readiness 
for a descent upon the American coast. Many of the 
British vessels were already well prepared for ordi- 
nary naval warfare, but, to resist crabs, additional 
defences were necessary. It was known that the Ada- 
mant had been captured, and, consequently, the manu- 
facture of stern-jackets had been abandoned, but it 
was believed that protection could be effectually 
given to rudders and propeller -blades by a new 
method which the admiralty had adopted. 

The repeller which was to take part in the Syndi- 
cate’s proposed movement had been a vessel of the 
United States Navy, which for a long time had been 
out of commission, and undergoing a course of very 
slow and desultory repairs in a dockyard. She had 
always been considered the most unlucky craft in the 
service, and nearly every accident that could happen 
to a ship had happened to her. Years and years be- 
fore, when she would set out upon a cruise, her offi- 
cers and crew would receive the humorous sympathy 
of their friends, and wagers were frequently laid in 
regard to the different kinds of mishaps which might 
befall this unlucky vessel, which was then known as 
the Tallapoosa. 

The Syndicate did not particularly desire this 
vessel, but there was no other that could readily be 
made available for its purposes, and, accordingly, the 
Tallapoosa was purchased from the government and 
79 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


work immediately begun upon her. Her engines and 
hull were put into good condition, and outside of her 
was built another hull, composed of heavy steel armor- 
plates, and strongly braced by great transverse beams 
running through the ship. 

Still outside of this was placed an improved system 
of spring armor, much stronger and more effective 
than any which had yet been constructed. This, with 
the armor-plate, added nearly fifteen feet to the width 
of the vessel above water. 

All her superstructures were removed from her 
deck, which was covered by a curved steel roof, and 
under a bomb-proof canopy at the bow were placed 
two guns, capable of carrying the largest-sized motor 
bombs. The Tallapoosa , thus transformed,, was called 
Repeller No. 11. 

The immense addition to her weight would, of 
course, interfere very much with the speed of the new 
repeller, but this was considered of little importance, 
as she would depend on her own engines only in time 
of action. She was now believed to possess more per- 
fect defences than any battle-ship in the world. 

Early on a misty morning, Repeller No. 11, towed 
by four of the swiftest and most powerful crabs, and 
followed by two others, left a northern port of the 
United States, bound for the coast of Great Britain. 
Her course was a very northerly one, for the reason 
that the Syndicate had planned work for her to do 
while on her way across the Atlantic. 

The Syndicate had now determined, without un- 
necessarily losing an hour, plainly to demonstrate the 
power of the Instantaneous Motor bomb. It had been 
intended to do this upon the Adamant , but as it had 
80 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


been found impossible to induce the captain of that 
vessel to evacuate his ship, the Syndicate had declined 
to exhibit the efficiency of their new agent of destruc- 
tion upon a disabled craft crowded with human 
beings. 

This course had been highly prejudicial to the 
claims of the Syndicate, for, as Repeller No. 7 had 
made no use, in the contest with the Adamant , of the 
motor bombs with which she was said to be supplied, 
it was generally believed, on both sides of the Atlantic, 
that she carried no such bombs, and the conviction 
that the destruction at the Canadian port had been 
effected by means of mines continued as strong as it 
had ever been. To correct these false ideas was now 
the duty of Repeller No. 11. 

For some time, Great Britain had been steadily 
forwarding troops and munitions of war to Canada, 
without interruption from her enemy. Only once 
had the Syndicate’s vessels appeared above the banks 
of Newfoundland, and, as the number of these peculiar 
craft must necessarily be small, it was not supposed 
that their line of operations would be extended very 
far north, and no danger from them was apprehended, 
provided the English vessels laid their courses well to 
the north. 

Shortly before the sailing of Repeller No. 11, the 
Syndicate had received news that one of the largest 
transatlantic mail-steamers, loaded with troops and 
with heavy cannon for Canadian fortifications, and 
accompanied by the Craglevin , one of the largest iron- 
clads in the Royal Navy, had started across the At- 
lantic. The first business of the repeller and her 
attendant crabs concerned these two vessels. 


81 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Owing to the power and speed of the crabs which 
towed her, Bepeller No. 11 made excellent time, and 
on the morning of the third day out the two British 
vessels were sighted. Somewhat altering their course, 
the Syndicate’s vessels were soon within a few miles 
of the enemy. 

The Craglevin was a magnificent war-ship. She was 
not quite so large as the Adamant , and she was unpro- 
vided with a stern-jacket or other defence of the 
kind. In sending her out, the admiralty had de- 
signed her to defend the transport against the regular 
vessels of the United States Navy, for, although the 
nature of the contract with the Syndicate was well 
understood in England, it was not supposed that the 
American government would long consent to allow 
their war- vessels to remain entirely idle. 

When the captain of the Craglevin perceived the 
approach of the repeller, he was much surprised, but 
he did not hesitate for a moment as to his course. 
He signalled to the transport, then about a mile to 
the north, to keep on her way, while he steered to 
meet the enemy. It had been decided in British 
naval circles that the proper thing to do in regard to 
a repeller was to ram her as quickly as possible. 
These vessels were necessarily slow and unwieldy, 
and, if a heavy ironclad could keep clear of crabs 
long enough to rush down upon one, there was every 
reason to believe that the “ball-bouncer,” as the 
repellers were called by British sailors, could be 
crushed in below the water-line and sunk. So, full of 
courage and determination, the captain of the Crag- 
levin bore down upon the repeller. 

It is not necessary to enter into details of the ensu- 
82 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


ing action. Before the Craglevin was within half 
a mile of her enemy, she was seized by two crabs, 
which had cast loose from the repeller, and in less 
than twenty minutes both of her screws were ex- 
tracted and her rudder shattered. In the meantime, 
two of the swiftest crabs had pursued the transport, 
and, coming up with her, one of them had fastened 
to her rudder, without, however, making any attempt 
to inj ure it. When the captain of the steamer saw that 
one of the “sea-devils ” had him by the stern, while 
another was near by, ready to attack him, he pru- 
dently stopped his engines and lay to, the crab keep- 
ing his ship’s head to the sea. 

The captain of the Craglevin was a very different 
man from the captain of the Adamant. He was quite 
as brave, but he was wiser and more prudent. He 
saw that the transport had been captured and forced 
to lay to ; he saw that the repeller mounted two 
heavy guns at her bow, and, whatever might be the 
character of those guns, there could be no reasonable 
doubt that they were sufficient to sink an ordinary 
mail-steamer. His own vessel was entirely out of his 
control, and even if he chose to try his guns on the 
spring armor of the repeller, it would probably result 
in the repeller turning her fire upon the transport. 

With a disabled ship, and the lives of so many men 
in his charge, the captain of the Craglevin saw that it 
would be wrong for him to attempt to fight, and he 
did not fire a gun. With as much calmness as the 
circumstances would permit, he awaited the progress 
of events. 

In a very short time, a message came to him from 
Repeller No. 11, which stated that in two hours his 
83 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


ship would be destroyed by Instantaneous Motor 
bombs. Every opportunity, however, would be 
given for the transfer to the mail-steamer of all the 
officers and men on board the Craglevin , together with 
such of their possessions as they could take with them 
in that time. When this had been done, the transport 
would be allowed to proceed on her way. 

To this demand nothing but acquiescence was pos- 
sible. Whether or not there was such a thing as an 
Instantaneous Motor bomb the Craglevin^ s officers did 
not know, but they knew that, if left to herself, their 
ship would soon attend to her own sinking, for there 
was a terrible rent in her stern, owing to a pitch of 
the vessel while one of the propeller-shafts was being 
extracted. 

Preparations for leaving the ship were, therefore, 
immediately begun. The crab was ordered to release 
the mail-steamer, which, in obedience to signals from 
the Craglevin , steamed as near that vessel as safety 
would permit. Boats were lowered from both ships, 
and the work of transfer went on with great activity. 

There was no lowering of flags on board the Crag- 
levin, for the Syndicate attached no importance to 
such outward signs and formalities. If the captain of 
the British ship chose to haul down his colors, he 
could do so, but if he preferred to leave them still 
bravely floating above his vessel, he was equally wel- 
come to do that. 

When nearly every one had left the Craglevin, a 
boat was sent from the repeller, which lay near by, 
with a note requesting the captain and first officer of 
the British ship to come on board Bepeller No. 11 
and witness the method of discharging the Instanta- 
84 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


neons Motor bomb, after which they would be put on 
board the transport. This invitation struck the cap- 
tain of the Craglevin with surprise, but a little reflec- 
tion showed him that it would be wise to accept it. 
In the first place, it was in the nature of a command, 
which, in the presence of six crabs and a repeller, it 
would be ridiculous to disobey, and, moreover, he 
was moved by a desire to know something about the 
Syndicate’s mysterious engine of destruction, if, in- 
deed, such a thing really existed. 

Accordingly, when all the others had left the ship, 
the captain of the Craglevin and his first officer came 
on board the repeller, curiously observing the spring 
armor, over which they passed by means of a light 
gang-board with a hand-rail. They were received by 
the director at one of the hatches of the steel deck, 
which were now all open, and conducted by him to 
the bomb-proof compartment in the bow. There was 
no reason why the nature of the repeller’s defences 
should not be known to the world, nor adopted by 
other nations. They were intended as a protection 
against ordinary shot and shell. They would avail 
nothing against the Instantaneous Motor bomb. 

The British officers were shown the motor bomb to 
be discharged, which, externally, was very much like 
an ordinary shell, except that it was nearly as long 
as the bore of the cannon, and the director stated 
that although, of course, the principle of the motor 
bomb was the Syndicate’s secret, it was highly de- 
sirable that its effects and its methods of operation 
should be generally known. 

The repeller accompanied by the mail-steamer and 
all the crabs, now moved to about two miles to the 
85 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


leeward of the Craglevin, and lay to. The motor 
bomb was then placed in one of the great guns, while 
the scientific corps attended to the necessary calcula- 
tions of distance, etc. 

The director now turned to the British captain, 
who had been observing everything with the greatest 
interest, and, with a smile, asked him if he would 
like to commit hara-kiri 1 

As this remark was somewhat enigmatical, the 
director went on to say that if it would be any grati- 
fication to the captain to destroy his vessel with his 
own hands, instead of allowing this to be done by an 
enemy, he was at liberty to do so. This offer was 
immediately accepted, for if his ship were really to be 
destroyed, the captain felt that he would like to do it 
himself. 

When the calculations had been made and the 
indicator set, the captain was shown the button he 
must press, and stood waiting for the signal. He 
looked over the sea at the Craglevin , which had set- 
tled a little at the stern, and was rolling heavily, but 
she was still a magnificent battle -ship, with the red 
cross of England floating over her. He could not help 
the thought that if this motor mystery should amount 
to nothing, there was no reason why the Craglevin 
should not be towed into port, and be made again the 
grand war-ship she had been. 

Now the director gave the signal, and the captain, 
with his eyes fixed upon his ship, touched the button. 
A quick shock ran through the repeller, and a black- 
gray cloud, half a mile high, occupied the place of the 
British ship. 

The cloud rapidly settled down, covering the water 
86 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

with a glittering scum, which spread far and wide, 
and which had been the Craglevin. 

The British captain stood, for a moment, motionless, 
and then he picked up a rammer and ran it into the 
muzzle of the cannon which had been discharged. 
The great gun was empty. The Instantaneous Motor 
bomb was not there. 

Now he was convinced that the Syndicate had not 
mined the fortresses they had destroyed. 

In twenty minutes the two British officers were on 
board the transport, which then steamed rapidly west- 
ward. The crabs again took the repeller in tow, and 
the Syndicate’s fleet continued its eastward course, 
passing through the wide expanse of glittering scum, 
which had spread itself upon the sea. 

They were not two thirds of their way across the 
Atlantic when the transport reached St. John’s, and 
the cable told the world that the Craglevin had been 
annihilated. 

The news was received with amazement and even 
consternation. It came from an officer in the Royal 
Navy, and how could it be doubted that a great man- 
of-war had been destroyed in a moment by one shot 
from the Syndicate’s vessel ! And yet, even now, 
there were persons who did doubt, and who asserted 
that the crabs might have placed a great torpedo 
under the Craglevin , that a wire attached to this 
torpedo ran out from the repeller, and that the Brit- 
ish captain had merely fired the torpedo. But, hour 
by hour, as fuller news came across the ocean, the 
number of these doubters became smaller and smaller. 

In the midst of the great public excitement which 
now existed on both sides of the Atlantic,— in the 
87 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


midst of all the conflicting opinions, fears, and hopes, 
—the dominant sentiment seemed to be, in America 
as well as in Europe, one of curiosity. Were these 
six crabs and one repeller bound to the British Isles ? 
And, if so, what did they intend to do when they got 
there ? 

It was now generally admitted that one of the Syn- 
dicate’s crabs could disable a man-of-war, that one of 
the Syndicate’s repellers could withstand the heaviest 
artillery fire, and that one of the Syndicate’s motor 
bombs could destroy a vessel or a fort. But these 
things had been proved in isolated combats, where the 
new methods of attack and defence had had almost 
undisturbed opportunity for exhibiting their effi- 
ciency. But what could a repeller and half a dozen 
crabs do against the combined force of the Boyal 
Navy — a navy which had, in the last few years, re- 
gained its supremacy among the nations, and which 
had made Great Britain once more the first maritime 
power in the world ? 

The crabs might disable some men-of-war, the re- 
peller might make her calculations and discharge her 
bomb at a ship or a fort, but what would the main 
body of the navy be doing meanwhile ? Overwhelm- 
ing, crushing, and sinking to the bottom, crabs, re- 
peller, motor guns, and everything that belonged to 
them ! 

In England there was a feeling of strong resent- 
ment that such a little fleet should be allowed to sail 
with such intent into British waters. This resent- 
ment extended itself, not only to the impudent Syndi- 
cate, but toward the government, and the opposition 
party gained daily in strength. The opposition 
88 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


papers had been loud and reckless in their denuncia- 
tions of the slowness and inadequacy of the naval prep- 
arations, and loaded the government with the entire 
responsibility, not o'ily of the damage which had 
already been done to the forts, the ships, and the pres- 
tige of Great Britain, but also for the threatened 
danger of a sudden descent of the Syndicate’s fleet 
upon some unprotected point upon the coast. This 
fleet should never have been allowed to approach 
within a thousand miles of England. It should have 
been sunk in mid-ocean, if its sinking had involved 
the loss of a dozen men- of- war. 

In America a very strong feeling of dissatisfaction 
showed itself. From the first, the Syndicate contract 
had not been popular, but the quick, effective, and 
business-like action of that body of men, and the 
marked success, up to this time, of their inventions 
and their operations, had caused a great reaction in 
their favor. They had, so far, successfully defended 
the American coast, and when they had increased the 
number of their vessels, they would have been relied 
upon to continue that defence. Even if a British 
armada had set out to cross the Atlantic, its move- 
ments must have been slow and cumbrous, and the 
swift and sudden strokes with which the Syndicate 
waged war could have been given, by night and by 
day, over thousands of miles of ocean. 

Whether or not these strokes would have been 
quick enough or hard enough to turn back an armada, 
might be a question, but there could be no question 
of the suicidal policy of sending seven ships and two 
cannon to conquer England. It seemed as if the 
success of the Syndicate had so puffed up its members 

89 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


with pride and confidence in their powers that they 
had come to believe they had only to show them- 
selves to conquer, whatever might be the conditions 
of the contest. 

The destruction of the Syndicate’s fleet would now 
be a heavy blow to the United States. It would pro- 
duce an utter want of confidence in the councils and 
judgments of the Syndicate, which could not be coun- 
teracted by the strongest faith in the efficiency of 
their engines of war, and it was feared it might 
become necessary, even at this critical juncture, to 
annul the contract with the Syndicate, and to depend 
upon the American Navy for the defence of the 
American coast. 

Even among the men on board the Syndicate’s fleet, 
there were signs of doubt and apprehensions of evil. 
It had all been very well, so far, but fighting one ship 
at a time was a very different thing from steaming 
into the midst of a hundred ships. On board the 
repeller there was now an additional reason for fears 
and misgivings. The unlucky character of the vessel 
when it had been the Tallapoosa was known, and not 
a few of the men imagined that it must now be time 
for some new disaster to this ill-starred craft, and 
if her evil genius had desired fresh disaster for her, it 
was certainly sending her into a good place to look 
for it. 

But the Syndicate neither doubted, nor hesitated, 
nor paid any attention to the doubts and condemna- 
tions which they heard from every quarter. Four 
days after the news of the destruction of the Craglevin 
had been cabled from Canada to London, the Syn- 
dicate’s fleet entered the English Channel. Owing 
90 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


to the power and speed of the crabs, Repeller No. 11 
had made a passage of the Atlantic which, in her old 
naval career, would have been considered miraculous. 

Craft of various kinds were now passed, but none 
of them carried the British flag. In expectation of 
the arrival of the enemy, British merchantmen and 
fishing-vessels had been advised to keep in the back- 
ground until the British navy had concluded its busi- 
ness with the vessels of the American Syndicate. 

As has been said before, the British admiralty had 
adopted a new method of defence for the rudders and 
screw-propellers of naval vessels against the attacks 
of submerged craft. The work of constructing the 
new appliances had been pushed forward as fast as 
possible, but, so far, only one of these had been finished 
and attached to a man-of-war. 

The Llangaron was a recently built ironclad of the 
same size and class as the Adamant , and to her had 
been attached the new stern-defence. This was an 
immense steel cylinder, entirely closed, and rounded 
at the ends. It was about ten feet in diameter, and 
strongly braced inside. It was suspended by chains 
from two davits which projected over the stern of the 
vessel. When sailing, this cylinder was hoisted up to 
the davits, but when the ship was prepared for action, 
it was lowered until it lay, nearly submerged, abaft 
of the rudder. In this position its ends projected 
about fifteen feet on either side of the propeller- 
blades. 

It was believed that this cylinder would effectually 
prevent a crab from getting near enough to the pro- 
peller or the rudder to do any damage. It could not 
be torn away, as the stern-jacket had been, for the 
91 


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rounded and smooth sides and ends of the massive 
cylinder would offer no hold to the forceps of the 
crabs, and, approaching from any quarter, it would 
be impossible for these forceps to reach rudder or 
screw. 

The Syndicate’s little fleet arrived in British waters 
late in the day, and early the next morning it ap- 
peared about twenty miles to the south of the Isle of 
Wight, and headed to the northeast, as if it were 
making for Portsmouth. The course of these vessels 
greatly surprised the English government and naval 
authorities. It had been expected that an attack would 
probably be made upon some comparatively unpro- 
tected spot on the British seaboard, and, therefore, on 
the west coast of Ireland and in St. George’s Channel 
preparations of the most formidable character had 
been made to defend British ports against Repeller 
Ho. 11 and her attendant crabs. Particularly was 
this the case in Bristol Channel, where a large number 
of ironclads were stationed, and which was to have 
been the destination of the Llangaron , if the Syndi- 
cate’s vessels had delayed their coming long enough 
to allow her to get around there. That this little 
fleet should have sailed straight for England’s great 
naval stronghold was something that the British Ad- 
miralty could not understand. The fact was not 
appreciated that it was the object of the Syndicate 
to measure its strength with the greatest strength of 
the enemy. Anything less than this would not avail 
its purpose. 

notwithstanding that so many vessels had been sent 
to different parts of the coast, there was still in Ports- 
mouth harbor a large number of war- vessels of various 
92 


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classes, all in commission and ready for action. The 
greater part of these had received orders to cruise 
that day in the Channel. Consequently, it was still 
early in the morning when, around the eastern end of 
the Isle of Wight, there appeared a British fleet, com- 
posed of fifteen of the finest ironclads, with several 
gunboats and cruisers, and a number of torpedo-boats. 

It was a noble sight, for, besides the war-ships, there 
was another fleet, hanging upon the outskirts of the 
first, composed of craft, large and small, from both 
sides of the Channel, and filled with those who were 
anxious to witness from afar the sea-fight which was 
to take place under such novel conditions. Many of 
these observers were reporters and special corre- 
spondents for great newspapers. On some of the 
vessels which came up from the French coast were 
men with marine glasses of extraordinary power, 
whose business it was to send an early and accurate 
report of the affair to the office of the War Syndicate 
in New York. 

As soon as the British ships came in sight, the four 
crabs cast off from Repeller No. 11. Then, with the 
other two, they prepared for action, moving consider- 
ably in advance of the repeller, which now steamed 
forward very slowly. The wind was strong from the 
northwest, and the sea high, the shining tops of the 
crabs frequently disappearing under the waves. 

The British fleet came steadily on, headed by the 
great Llangaron. This vessel was very much in ad- 
vance of the others, for, knowing that when she was 
really in action, and the great cylinder which formed 
her stern-guard was lowered into the water, her speed 
would be much retarded, she had put on all steam, 
93 


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and, being the swiftest war-ship of her class, she had 
distanced all her consorts. It was highly important 
that she should begin the fight, and engage the atten- 
tion of as many crabs as possible, while certain of the 
other ships attacked the repeller with their rams. 
Although it was now generally believed that motor 
bombs from a repeller might destroy a man-of-war, 
it was also considered probable that the accurate cal- 
culations which appeared to be necessary to precision 
of aim could not be made when the object of the aim 
was in rapid motion. 

But, whether or not one or more motor bombs did 
strike the mark, or whether or not one or more 
vessels were blown into fine particles, there were a 
dozen ironclads in that fleet, each of whose com- 
manders and officers was determined to run into 
that repeller and crush her, if so be it they held 
together long enough to reach her. 

The commanders of the torpedo-boats had orders to 
direct their swift messengers of destruction first 
against the crabs, for these vessels were far in ad- 
vance of the repeller, and coming on with a rapidity 
which showed that they were determined upon mis- 
chief. If a torpedo, shot from a torpedo-boat, and 
speeding swiftly by its own powers beneath the 
waves, should strike the submerged hull of a crab, 
there would be one crab the less in the English 
Channel. 

As has been said, the Llangaron came rushing on, 
distancing everything, even the torpedo-boats. If, 
before she was obliged to lower her cylinder, she 
could get near enough to the almost stationary re- 
peller to take part in the attack on her, she would 
94 


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then be content to slacken speed and let the crabs 
nibble awhile at her stern. 

Two of the latest constructed and largest crabs, Q, 
and R, headed at full speed to meet the Llangaron , 
who, as she came on, opened the ball by sending a 
“rattler” in the shape of a five-hundred-pound shot 
into the ribs of the repeller, then at least four miles 
distant, and, immediately after, began firing her dyna- 
mite guns, which were of limited range, at the roofs 
of the advancing crabs. 

There were some on board the repeller who, at the 
moment the great shot struck her, with a ringing and 
clangor of steel springs, such as never was heard be- 
fore, wished that in her former state of existence she 
had been some other vessel than the Tallapoosa . 

But every spring sprang back to its place as the 
great mass of iron glanced off into the sea. The 
dynamite bombs flew over the tops of the crabs, 
whose rapid motions and slightly exposed surfaces 
gave little chance for accurate aim, and in a short 
time they were too close to the Llangaron for this 
class of gun to be used upon them. 

As the crabs came nearer, the Llangaron lowered 
the great steel cylinder, which hung across her stern, 
until it lay almost entirely under water and abaft of 
her rudder and propeller-blades. She now moved 
slowly through the water, and her men greeted the 
advancing crabs with yells of defiance, and a shower 
of shot from machine-guns. 

The character of the new defence which had been 
fitted to the Llangaron was known to the Syndicate, 
and the directors of the two new crabs understood the 
heavy piece of work which lay before them. But 
95 


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their plans of action had been well considered, and 
they made straight for the stern of the British 
ship. 

It was, of course, impossible to endeavor to grasp 
that great cylinder with its rounded ends. Their for- 
ceps would slip from any portion of its smooth surface 
on which they should endeavor to lay hold, and no 
such attempt was made. Keeping near the cylinder, 
one at each end of it, the two moved slowly after the 
Llangaron , apparently discouraged. 

In a short time, however, it was perceived by those 
on board the ship that a change had taken place in 
the appearance of the crabs. The visible portion of 
their backs was growing larger and larger. They were 
rising in the water. Their mailed roofs became 
visible from end to end, and the crowd of observers 
looking down from the ship were amazed to see what 
large vessels they were. 

Higher and higher the crabs arose, their powerful 
air-pumps working at their greatest capacity, until 
their ponderous pincers became visible above the 
water. Then into the minds of the officers of the 
Llangaron flashed the true object of this uprising, 
which to the crew had seemed an intention, on the 
part of the sea-devils, to clamber on board. 

If the cylinder were left in its present position, the 
crab might seize the chains by which it was suspended, 
while, if it were raised, it would cease to be a defence. 
Notwithstanding this latter contingency, the order 
was quickly given to raise the cylinder. But, before 
the hoisting-engine had been set in motion, Crab Q 
thrust forward her forceps over the top of the cylinder 
and held it down. Another thrust, and the iron jaws 
96 


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had grasped one of the two ponderous chains by which 
the cylinder was suspended. 

The other end of the cylinder began to rise, but at 
this moment Crab R, apparently by a single effort, 
lifted herself a foot higher out of the sea, her pincers 
flashed forward, and the other chain was grasped. 

The two crabs were now placed in the most extraor- 
dinary position. The overhang of their roofs pre- 
vented an attack on their hulls by the Llangaron , but 
their unmailed hulls were so greatly exposed that 
a few shot from another ship could easily have de- 
stroyed them. But, as any ship firing at them would 
be very likely to hit the Llangaron , their directors 
felt safe on this point. 

Three of the foremost ironclads, less than two miles 
away, were heading directly for them, and their rams 
might be used with but little danger to the Llangaron , 
but, on the other hand, three swift crabs were head- 
ing directly for these ironclads. 

It was impossible for Crabs Q and R to operate in 
the usual way. Their massive forceps, lying flat 
against the top of the cylinder, could not be twisted. 
The enormous chains they held could not be severed 
by the greatest pressure, and if both crabs backed at 
once they would probably do no more than tow the 
Llangaron , stern foremost. There was, moreover, no 
time to waste in experiments, for other rams would 
be coming on, and there were not crabs enough to 
attend to them all. 

No time was wasted. Q signalled to R, and R back 
again, and instantly the two crabs, each still grasping 
a chain of the cylinder, began to sink. On board the 
Llangaron an order was shouted to let out the cylinder 
97 


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chains. But as these chains had only been made long 
enough to allow the top of the cylinder to hang at or 
a little below the surface of the water, a foot or two 
of length was all that could be gained. 

The davits from which the cylinder hung were 
thick and strong, and the iron windlasses to which 
the chains were attached were large and ponderous, 
but these were not strong enough to withstand the 
weight of two crabs with steel-armored roofs, enor- 
mous engines, and iron hull. In less than a minute 
one davit snapped like a pipe-stem under the tre- 
mendous strain, and, immediately afterwards, the 
windlass to which the chain was attached was torn 
from its bolts, and went crashing overboard, tearing 
away a portion of the stern-rail in its descent. 

Crab Q instantly released the chain it had held, 
and in a moment the great cylinder hung almost per- 
pendicularly from one chain— but only for a moment. 
The nippers of Crab R still firmly held the chain, 
and the tremendous leverage exerted by the falling 
of one end of the cylinder wrenched it from the 
rigidly held end of its chain, and, in a flash, the enor- 
mous stern-guard of the Llangaron sunk, end foremost, 
to the bottom of the Channel. 

In ten minutes afterwards, the Llangaron , rudder- 
less, and with the blades of her propellers shivered 
and crushed, was slowly turning her starboard to the 
wind and the sea, and beginning to roll like a log of 
eight thousand tons. 

Besides the Llangaron , three ironclads were now 
drifting broadside to the sea. But there was no time 
to succor disabled vessels, for the rest of the fleet 
98 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


was coming on, and there was great work for the 
crabs. 

Against these enemies, swift of motion and sudden 
in action, the torpedo-boats found it almost impos- 
sible to operate, for the British ships and the crabs 
were so rapidly nearing each other that a torpedo 
sent out against an enemy was more than likely to 
run against the hull of a friend. Each crab sped at 
the top of its speed for a ship, not only to attack, but 
also to protect itself. 

Once only did the crabs give the torpedo-boats a 
chance. A mile or two north of the scene of action, a 
large cruiser was making her way rapidly toward the 
repeller, which was still lying almost motionless, four 
miles to the westward. As it was highly probable 
that this vessel carried dynamite guns, Crab Q, which 
was the fastest of her class, was signalled to go after 
her. She had scarcely begun her course across the 
open space of sea before a torpedo-boat was in pur- 
suit. Fast as was the latter, the crab was faster, and 
quite as easily managed. She was in a position of 
great danger, and her only safety lay in keeping her- 
self on a line between the torpedo-boat and the gun- 
boat, and to shorten as quickly as possible the distance 
between herself and the latter vessel. 

If the torpedo-boat shot to one side in order to get 
the crab out of line, the crab, its back sometimes 
hidden by the tossing waves, sped also to the same 
side. When the torpedo-boat could aim a gun at the 
crab, and not at the gunboat, a deadly torpedo flew 
into the sea. But a tossing sea and a shifting target 
were unfavorable to the gunner’s aim. It was not 
99 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


long, however, before the crab had run the chase 
which might so readily have been fatal to it, and was 
so near the gunboat that no more torpedoes could 
be fired at it. 

Of course the officers and crew of the gunboat had 
watched with most anxious interest the chase of the 
crab. The vessel was one which had been fitted out 
for service with dynamite guns, of which she carried 
some of very long range for this class of artillery, and 
she had been ordered to get astern of the repeller and 
to do her best to put a few dynamite bombs on board 
of her. 

The dynamite gunboat, therefore, had kept ahead 
at full speed, determined to carry out her instructions, 
if she should be allowed to do so. But her speed was 
not as great as that of a crab, and when the torpedo- 
boat had given up the chase, and the dreaded crab 
was drawing swiftly near, the captain thought it time 
for bravery to give place to prudence. With the 
large amount of explosive material of the most tre- 
mendous and terrific character which he had on 
board, it would be the insanity of courage for him to 
allow his comparatively small vessel to be racked, 
shaken, and partially shivered by the powerful jaws 
of the oncoming foe. As he could neither fly nor 
fight, he hauled down his flag in token of surrender, 
the first instance of the kind which had occurred in 
this war. 

When the director of Crab Q, through his lookout 
glass, beheld this action on the part of the gunboat, 
he was a little perplexed as to what he should next 
do. To accept the surrender of the British vessel, and 
to assume control of her, it was necessary to commu- 
100 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


nicate with her. The communications of the crabs 
were made entirely by black smoke signals, and these 
the captain of the gunboat could not understand. 
The heavy hatches in the mailed roof, which could be 
put in use when the crab was cruising, could not be 
opened when she was at her fighting depth and in a 
tossing sea. 

A means was soon devised of communicating with 
the gunboat. A speaking-tube was run up through 
one of the air-pipes of the crab, which pipe was then 
elevated some distance above the surface. Through 
this the director hailed the other vessel, and as the 
air-pipe was near the stern of the crab, and, therefore, 
at a distance from the only visible portion of the 
turtle-back roof, his voice seemed to come out of the 
depths of the ocean. 

The surrender was accepted, and the captain of the 
gunboat was ordered to stop his engines and prepare 
to be towed. When this order had been given, the 
crab moved round to the bow of the gunboat, and 
grasping the cut-water with its forceps, reversed its 
engines, and began to back rapidly toward the British 
fleet, taking with it the captured vessel as a protec- 
tion against torpedoes while in transit. 

The crab slowed up not far from one of the fore- 
most of the British ships, and coming round to the 
quarter of the gunboat, the astonished captain of 
that vessel was informed, through the speaking-tube, 
that if he would give his parole to keep out of this 
fight, he would be allowed to proceed to his anchorage 
in Portsmouth harbor. The parole was given, and 
the dynamite gunboat, after reporting to the flag- 
ship, steamed away to Portsmouth. 

101 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The situation now became one which was unparal- 
leled in the history of naval warfare. On the side of 
the British, seven war-ships were disabled and drift- 
ing slowly to the southeast. For half an hour no 
advance had been made by the British fleet, for, when- 
ever one of the large vessels had steamed ahead, that 
vessel had become the victim of a crab, and the Vice- 
Admiral commanding the fleet had signalled not to 
advance until further orders. 

The crabs were also lying to, each to the windward 
of, and not far from, one of the British ships. They 
had ceased to make any attacks, and were resting 
quietly under protection of the enemy. This, with 
the fact that the repeller still lay four miles away, 
without any apparent intention of taking part in the 
battle, gave the situation its peculiar character. 

The British Vice-Admiral did not intend to remain 
in this quiescent condition. It was, of course, useless 
to order forth his ironclads, simply to see them dis- 
abled and set adrift. There was another arm of the 
service which evidently could be used with better 
effect upon this peculiar foe than could the great 
battle-ships. 

But before doing anything else, he must provide for 
the safety of those of his vessels which had been ren- 
dered helpless by the crabs, and some of which were 
now drifting dangerously near to each other. De- 
spatches had been sent to Portsmouth for tugs, but it 
would not do to wait until these arrived, and a suffi- 
cient number of ironclads were detailed to tow their 
injured consorts into port. 

When this order had been given, the Vice-Admiral 
immediately prepared to renew the fight, and this 
102 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


time his efforts were to be directed entirely against 
the repeller. It would be useless to devote any fur- 
ther attention to the crabs, especially in their present 
positions. But if the chief vessel of the Syndicate’s 
fleet, with its spring armor and its terrible earth- 
quake bombs, could be destroyed, it was quite possible 
that those sea-parasites, the crabs, could also be dis- 
posed of. 

Every torpedo-boat was now ordered to the front, 
and in a long line, almost abreast of each other, these 
swift vessels— the light infantry of the sea— advanced 
upon the solitary and distant foe. If one torpedo 
could but reach her hull, the Vice-Admiral, in spite 
of seven disabled ironclads and a captured gunboat, 
might yet gaze proudly at his floating flag, even if 
his own ship should be drifting broadside to the sea. 

The line of torpedo-boats, slightly curving inward, 
had advanced about a mile, when Bepeller No. 11 
awoke from her seeming sleep, and began to act. 
The two great guns at her bow were trained upward, 
so that a bomb discharged from them would fall into 
the sea a mile and a half ahead. Slowly turning her 
bow from side to side, so that the guns would cover a 
range of nearly half a circle, the Instantaneous Motor 
bombs of the repeller were discharged, one every half- 
minute. 

One of the most appalling characteristics of the 
motor bombs was the silence which accompanied their 
discharge and action. No noise was heard, except 
the flash of sound occasioned by the removal of the 
particles of the object aimed at, and the subsequent 
roar of wind or fall of water. 

As each motor bomb dropped into the Channel, a 
103 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


dense cloud appeared high in the air, above a roaring, 
seething caldron, hollowed out of the waters and out 
of the very bottom of the Channel. Into this chasm 
the cloud quickly came down, condensed into a vast 
body of water, which fell, with the roar of a cyclone, 
into the dreadful abyss from which it had been torn, 
before the hissing walls of the great hollow had half 
filled it with their sweeping surges. The piled- up 
mass of the redundant water was still sending its mad- 
dened billows tossing and writhing in every direction 
toward their normal level, when another bomb was 
discharged, another surging abyss appeared, another 
roar of wind and water was heard, and another moun- 
tain of furious billows uplifted itself in a storm of 
spray and foam, raging that it had found its place 
usurped. 

Slowly turning, the repeller discharged bomb after 
bomb, building up out of the very sea itself a barrier 
against its enemies. Under these thundering cata- 
racts, born in an instant, and coming down all at once 
in a plunging storm, into these abysses, with walls of 
water and floors of cleft and shivered rocks, through 
this wide belt of raging turmoil, thrown into new 
frenzy after the discharge of every bomb, no vessel, no 
torpedo, could pass. 

The air, driven off in every direction by tremendous 
and successive concussions, came rushing back in 
shrieking gales, which tore up the waves into blind- 
ing foam. For miles in every direction the sea swelled 
and upheaved into great, peaked waves, the repeller 
rising upon these almost high enough to look down into 
the awful chasms which her bombs were making. A 
torpedo-boat, caught in one of the returning gales, was 
104 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


hurled forward almost on her beam ends, until she was 
under the edge of one of the vast masses of descending 
water. The flood which, from even the outer limits 
of this falling sea, poured upon and into the unlucky 
vessel, nearly swamped her, and when she was swept 
back by the rushing waves into less stormy waters, 
her officers and crew leaped into their boats and de- 
serted her. By rare good fortune, their boats were 
kept afloat in the turbulent sea until they reached 
the nearest torpedo-vessel. 

Five minutes afterwards, a small but carefully aimed 
motor bomb struck the nearly swamped vessel, and, 
with the roar of all her own torpedoes, she passed into 
nothing. 

The British Vice-Admiral had carefully watched 
the repeller through his glass, and he noticed that, 
simultaneously with the appearance of the cloud in 
the air produced by the action of the motor bombs, 
there were two puffs of black smoke from the repeller. 
These were signals to the crabs, to notify them that a 
motor gun had been discharged, and thus to provide 
against accidents in case a bomb should fail to act. 
One puff signified that a bomb had been discharged 
to the north ; two, that it had gone eastward ; and so 
on. If, therefore, a crab should see a signal of this 
kind, and perceive no signs of the action of a bomb, 
it would be careful not to approach the repeller from 
the quarter indicated. It is true that, in case of the 
failure of a bomb to act, another bomb would be 
dropped upon the same spot, but the instructions of 
the War Syndicate provided that every possible pre- 
caution should be taken against accidents. 

Of course the Vice-Admiral did not understand 


105 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


these signals, nor did he know that they were signals, 
but he knew that they accompanied the discharge of 
a motor gun. Once he noticed that there was a short 
cessation in the hitherto constant succession of water 
avalanches, and during this lull he had seen two puffs 
from the repeller, and the destruction, at the same 
moment, of the deserted torpedo-boat. It was, there- 
fore, plain enough to him that if a motor bomb could 
be placed so accurately upon one torpedo-boat, and 
with such terrible result, other bombs could quite as 
easily be discharged upon the other torpedo-boats, 
which formed the advance-line of the fleet. When 
the barrier of storm and cataract again began to 
stretch itself in front of the repeller, he knew that 
not only was it impossible for the torpedo-boats to 
send their missives through this raging turmoil, but 
that each of these vessels was itself in danger of 
instantaneous destruction. 

Unwilling, therefore, to expose his vessels to profit- 
less danger, the Vice-Admiral ordered the torpedo- 
boats to retire from the front, and the whole line of 
them proceeded to a point north of the fleet, where 
they lay to. 

When this had been done, the repeller ceased the 
discharge of bombs, but the sea was still heaving and 
tossing after the storm, when a despatch-boat brought 
orders from the British Admiralty to the flag-ship. 
Communication between the British fleet and the 
shore, and, consequently, London, had been constant, 
and all that had occurred had been quickly made 
known to the admiralty and the government. The 
orders now received by the Vice-Admiral were to the 
effect that it was considered judicious to discontinue 
106 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


the conflict for the day, and that he and his whole 
fleet should return to Portsmouth to receive further 
orders. 

In issuing these commands, the British government 
was actuated simply by motives of humanity and 
common sense. The British fleet was thoroughly 
prepared for ordinary naval warfare, but an enemy 
had inaugurated another kind of naval warfare, for 
which it was not prepared. It was, therefore, decided 
to withdraw the ships until they should be prepared 
for the new kind of warfare. To allow ironclad after 
ironclad to be disabled and set adrift, to subject every 
ship in the fleet to the danger of instantaneous de- 
struction, and all this without the possibility of in- 
flicting injury upon the enemy, would not be bra- 
very : it would be stupidity. It was surely possible to 
devise a means for destroying the seven hostile ships 
now in British waters. Until action for this end 
could be taken, it was the part of wisdom for the 
British Navy to confine itself to the protection of Brit- 
ish ports. 

When the fleet began to move toward the Isle of 
Wight, the six crabs, which had been lying quietly 
among and under the protection of their enemies, 
withdrew southward, and, making a slight circuit, 
joined the repeller. 

Each of the disabled ironclads was now in tow of a 
sister vessel, or of tugs, except the Llangaron. This 
great ship had been disabled so early in the contest, 
and her broadside had presented such a vast surface 
to the northwest wind, that she had drifted much far- 
ther to the south than any other vessel. Conse- 
quently, before the arrival of the tugs which had 
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THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 

been sent for to tow her into harbor, the Llangaron 
was well on her way across the Channel. A foggy 
night came on, and the next morning she was ashore 
on the coast of France, with a mile of water between 
her and dry land. Fast rooted in a great sand-bank, 
she lay week after week, with the storms that came 
in from the Atlantic, and the storms that came in from 
the German Ocean, beating upon her tall side of solid 
iron, with no more effect than if it had been a preci- 
pice of rock. Against waves and winds she formed a 
massive breakwater, with a wide stretch of smooth 
sea between her and the land. There she lay, proof 
against all the artillery of Europe, and all the artil- 
lery of the sea and the storm, until a fleet of small 
vessels had taken from her her ponderous armament, 
her coal and stores, and she had been lightened 
enough to float upon a high tide, and to follow three 
tugs to Portsmouth. 

When night came on, Kepeller No. 11 and the crabs 
dropped down with the tide, and lay to some miles 
west of the scene of battle. The fog shut them in 
fairly well, but, fearful that torpedoes might be sent 
out against them, they showed no lights. There was 
little danger of collision with passing merchantmen, 
for the English Channel, at present, was deserted by 
this class of vessels. 

The next morning the repeller, preceded by two 
crabs, bearing between them a submerged net similar 
to that used at the Canadian port, appeared off the 
eastern end of the Isle of Wight. The anchors of the 
net were dropped, and behind it the repeller took her 
place, and shortly afterwards she sent a flag-of-truce 
boat to Portsmouth harbor. This boat carried a note 
108 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


from the American War Syndicate to the British 
government. 

In this note it was stated that it was now the in- 
tention of the Syndicate to utterly destroy, by means 
of the Instantaneous Motor, a fortified post upon the 
British coast. As this would be done solely for the 
purpose of demonstrating the irresistible, destructive 
power of the motor bombs, it was immaterial to the 
Syndicate what fortified post should be destroyed, 
provided it should answer the requirements of the 
proposed demonstration. Consequently, the British 
government was offered the opportunity of naming 
the fortified place which should be destroyed. If said 
government should decline to do this, or delay the 
selection for twenty-four hours, the Syndicate would 
itself decide upon the place to be operated upon. 

Every one in every branch of the British govern- 
ment, and, in fact, nearly every thinking person in 
the British Islands, had been racking his brains, or 
her brains, that night, over the astounding situation, 
and the note of the Syndicate only added to the per- 
turbation of the government. There was a strong 
feeling in official circles that the insolent little enemy 
must be crushed, if the whole British Navy should 
have to rush upon it, and all sink together in a com- 
mon grave. 

But there were cooler and more prudent brains at 
the head of affairs, and these had already decided 
that the contest between the old engines of war and 
the new ones was entirely one-sided. The instincts 
of good government dictated to them that they 
should be extremely wary and circumspect during 
the further continuance of this unexampled war. 

109 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Therefore, when the note of the Syndicate was con- 
sidered, it was agreed that the time had come when 
good statesmanship and wise diplomacy would be 
more valuable to the nation than torpedoes, armored 
ships, or heavy guns. 

There was not the slightest doubt that the country 
would disagree with the government, but on the latter 
lay the responsibility of the country’s safety. There 
was nothing, in the opinion of the ablest naval offi- 
cers, to prevent the Syndicate’s fleet from coming up 
the Thames. Instantaneous Motor bombs could sweep 
away all forts and citadels, and explode and destroy 
all torpedo defences, and London might lie under the 
guns of the repeller. 

In consequence of this view of the state of affairs, 
an answer was sent to the Syndicate’s note, asking 
that further time be given for the consideration of 
the situation, and suggesting that an exhibition of 
the power of the motor bomb was not necessary, as 
sufficient proof of this had been given in the destruc- 
tion of the Canadian forts, the annihilation of the 
Craglevin , and the extraordinary results of the dis- 
charge of said bombs on the preceding day. 

To this a reply was sent from the office of the Syn- 
dicate in New York, by means of a cable-boat from 
the French coast, that on no account could their pur- 
pose be altered or their propositions modified. Al- 
though the British government might be convinced 
of the power of the Syndicate’s motor bombs, it was 
not the case with the British people, for it was still 
popularly disbelieved that motor bombs existed. 
This disbelief the Syndicate was determined to over- 
come, not only for the furtherance of its own pur- 
110 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


poses, but to prevent the downfall of the present 
British ministry, and a probable radical change in 
the government. That such a political revolution— 
as undesirable to the Syndicate as to cool-headed and 
sensible Englishmen— was imminent, there could be 
no doubt. The growing feeling of disaffection, almost 
amounting to disloyalty, not only in the opposition 
party, but among those who had hitherto been firm 
adherents of the government, was mainly based upon 
the idea that the present British rulers had allowed 
themselves to be frightened by mines and torpedoes, 
artfully placed and exploded. Therefore, the Syndi- 
cate intended to set right the public mind upon this 
subject. The note concluded by earnestly urging the 
designation, without loss of time, of a place of opera- 
tions. 

This answer was received in London in the evening, 
and all night it was the subject of earnest and anxious 
deliberation in the government offices. It was at last 
decided, amid great opposition, that the Syndicate’s 
alternative must be accepted, for it would be the 
height of folly to allow the repeller to bombard any 
port she should choose. When this conclusion had 
been reached, the work of selecting a place for the 
proposed demonstration of the American Syndicate 
occupied but little time. The task was not difficult. 
Nowhere in Great Britain was there a fortified spot of 
so little importance as Oaerdaff, on the west coast of 
Wales. 

Caerdaff consisted of a large fort on a promontory, 
and an immense castellated structure on the other 
side of a small bay, with a little fishing- village at the 
head of said bay. The castellated structure was rather 
111 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


old, tlie fortress somewhat less so, and both had long 
been considered useless, as there was no probability 
that an enemy would land at this point on the coast. 

Caerdaff was, therefore, selected as the spot to be 
operated upon. No one could, for a moment, imagine 
that the Syndicate had mined this place, and if it 
should be destroyed by motor bombs, it would prove 
to the country that the government had not been 
frightened by the tricks of a crafty enemy. 

An hour after the receipt of the note in which it 
was stated that Caerdaff had been selected, the Syn- 
dicate’s fleet started for that place. The crabs were 
elevated to cruising height, the repeller taken in tow, 
and by the afternoon of the next day the fleet was 
lying off Caerdaff. A note was sent on shore to the 
officer in command, stating that the bombardment 
would begin at ten o’clock in the morning of the next 
day but one, and requesting that information of the 
hour appointed be instantly transmitted to London. 
When this had been done, the fleet steamed six or 
seven miles offshore, where it lay to or cruised about 
for two nights and a day. 

As soon as the government had selected Caerdaff 
for bombardment, immediate measures were taken to 
remove the small garrisons and the inhabitants of the 
fishing-village from possible danger. When the Syn- 
dicate’s note was received by the commandant of the 
fort, he was already in receipt of orders from the War 
Office to evacuate the fortifications, and to superin- 
tend the removal of the fishermen and their families 
to a point of safety farther up the coast. 

Caerdaff was a place difficult of access by land, the 
nearest railroad stations being fifteen or twenty miles 
112 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


away, but, on the day after the arrival of the Syndi- 
cate’s fleet in the offing, thousands of people made 
their way to this part of the country, anxious to see 
—if, perchance, they might find an opportunity to 
safely see— what might happen at ten o’clock the 
next morning. Officers of the army and navy, govern- 
ment officials, press correspondents in great numbers, 
and curious and anxious observers of all classes, has- 
tened to the Welsh coast. 

The little towns where the visitors left the trains 
were crowded to overflowing, and every possible con- 
veyance by which the mountains lying back of Caer- 
daff could be reached, was eagerly secured, many 
persons, however, being obliged to depend upon their 
own legs. Soon after sunrise on the appointed day, 
the forts, the village, and the surrounding lower coun- 
try were entirely deserted, and every point of vantage 
on the mountains, lying some miles back from the 
coast, was occupied by excited spectators, nearly every 
one armed with a field-glass. 

A few of the guns from the fortifications were trans- 
ported to an overlooking height, in order that they 
might be brought into action in case the repeller, 
instead of bombarding, should send men in boats to 
take possession of the evacuated fortifications, or 
should attempt any mining operations. The gunners 
for this battery were stationed at a safe place in the 
rear, whence they could readily reach their guns, if 
necessary. 

The next day was one of supreme importance to 
the Syndicate. On this day it must make plain to 
the world, not only what the motor bomb could do, 
but that the motor bomb did what was done. Before 


113 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


leaving the English Channel, the director of Repeller 
No. 11 had received telegraphic advices from both 
Europe and America, indicating the general drift of 
public opinion in regard to the recent sea-fight, and, 
besides these, many English and Continental papers 
had been brought to him from the French coast. 

From all these, the director perceived that the 
cause of the Syndicate had, in a certain way, suffered 
from the manner in which the battle in the Channel 
had been conducted. Every newspaper urged, that, 
if the repeller carried guns capable of throwing the 
bombs which the Syndicate professed to use, there 
was no reason why every ship in the British fleet 
should not have been destroyed. But, as the repeller 
had not fired a single shot at the fleet, and as the 
battle had been fought entirely by the crabs, there 
was every reason to believe that, if there were such 
things as motor guns, their range was very short, not 
as great as that of the ordinary dynamite cannon. 
The great risk run by one of the crabs in order to 
disable a dynamite gunboat seemed an additional 
proof of this. 

It was urged that the explosions in the water might 
have been produced by torpedoes, that the torpedo- 
boat which had been destroyed was so near the 
repeller that an ordinary shell was sufficient to 
accomplish the damage that had been done. 

To gainsay these assumptions was imperative on 
the Syndicate’s forces. To establish firmly the pres- 
tige of the Instantaneous Motor was the object of the 
war. Crabs were of but temporary service. Any 
nation could build vessels like them, and there were 
many means of destroying them. The spring armor 
114 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


was a complete defence against ordinary artillery, 
but it was not a defence against submarine torpedoes. 
The claims of the Syndicate could be firmly based 
on nothing but the powers of absolute annihilation 
possessed by the Instantaneous Motor bomb. 

About nine o’clock on the appointed morning, 
Repeller No. 11, much to the surprise of the specta- 
tors on the high grounds with field-glasses and tele- 
scopes, steamed away from Caerdaff. What this 
meant nobody knew, but the naval and military obser- 
vers immediately suspected that the Syndicate’s vessel 
had concentrated attention upon Caerdaff in order to 
go over to Ireland to do some sort of mischief there. 
It was presumed that the crabs accompanied her, but, 
as they were now at their fighting depth, it was im- 
possible to see them at so great a distance. 

But it was soon perceived that Repeller No. 11 had 
no intention of running away, nor of going over to 
Ireland. From slowly cruising about four or five miles 
offshore, she had steamed westward until she had 
reached a point which, according to the calculations 
of her scientific corps, was nine marine miles from 
Caerdaff. There she lay to against a strong breeze 
from the east. 

It was not yet ten o’clock when the officer in charge 
of the starboard gun remarked to the director that he 
supposed that it would not be necessary to give the 
smoke signals, as had been done in the Channel, as 
now all the crabs were lying near them. The director 
reflected a moment, and then ordered that the signals 
should be given at every discharge of the gun, and 
that the columns of black smoke should be shot up to 
their greatest height. 


115 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


At precisely ten o’clock, up rose from Repeller No. 
11 two tall jets of black smoke. Up rose from the 
promontory of Caerdaff a heavy gray cloud, like an 
immense balloon, and then the people on the hilltops 
and highlands felt a sharp shock of the ground and 
rocks beneath them, and heard the sound of a ter- 
rible, but momentary, grinding crush. 

As the cloud began to settle, it was borne out to sea 
by the wind, and then it was revealed that the fortifi- 
cations of Caerdaff had disappeared. 

In ten minutes there was another smoke signal, and 
a great cloud appeared over the castellated structure 
on the other side of the bay. The cloud passed away, 
leaving a vacant space on the other side of the bay. 

The second shock sent a panic through the crowd 
of spectators. The next earthquake bomb might 
strike among them ! Down the eastern slopes ran 
hundreds of them, leaving only a few of the bravest 
civilians, the reporters of the press, and the naval and 
military men. 

The next motor bomb descended into the fishing- 
village, the comminuted particles of which, being 
mostly of light material, floated far out to sea. 

The detachment of artillerists that had been deputed 
to man the guns on the heights which commanded the 
bay, had been ordered to fall back to the mountains 
as soon as it had been seen that it was not the inten- 
tion of the repeller to send boats on shore. The most 
courageous of the spectators trembled a little when 
the fourth bomb was discharged, for it came farther 
inland, and struck the height on which the battery 
had been placed, removing all vestiges of the guns, 
caissons, and the ledge of rock on which they had stood. 

116 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


The motor bombs which the repeller was now dis- 
charging were of the largest size and greatest power, 
and a dozen more of them were discharged at inter- 
vals of a few minutes. The promontory on which the 
fortifications had stood was annihilated, and the 
waters of the bay swept over its foundations. Soon 
afterwards the head of the bay seemed madly rushing 
out to sea, but quickly surged back to fill the chasm 
which yawned at the spot where the village had been. 

The dense clouds were now upheaved at such short 
intervals that the scene of devastation was completely 
shut out from the observers on the hills, but every 
few minutes they felt a sickening shock, and heard a 
momentary and horrible crash and hiss, which seemed 
to fill all the air. The Instantaneous Motor bombs 
were tearing up the seaboard and grinding it to 
atoms. 

It was uot yet noon when the bombardment ceased. 
No more puffs of black smoke came up from the 
distant repeller, and the vast spreading mass of clouds 
moved seaward, dropping down upon St. George’s 
Channel in a rain of stone-dust. Then the repeller 
steamed shoreward, and when she was within three or 
four miles of the coast she ran up a large white flag, 
in token that her task was ended. 

This sign that the bombardment had ceased was 
accepted in good faith, and, as some of the military 
and naval men had carefully noted that each puff 
from the repeller was accompanied by a shock, it was 
considered certain that all the bombs which had been 
discharged had acted, and that, consequently, no 
further danger was to be apprehended from them. 
In spite of this announcement, many of the specta- 
117 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


tors would not leave their position on the hills, but a 
hundred or more of curious and courageous men ven- 
tured down into the plain. 

That part of the sea-coast where Caerdaff had been 
was a new country, about which men wandered slowly 
and cautiously, with sudden exclamations of amaze- 
ment and awe. There were no longer promontories 
jutting out into the sea, there were no hillocks and 
rocky terraces rising inland. In a vast plain, shaven 
and shorn down to a common level of scarred and 
pallid rock, there lay an immense chasm two and 
a half miles long, half a mile wide, and so deep that 
shuddering men could stand and look down upon the 
rent and riven rocks upon which had rested that por- 
tion of the Welsh coast which had now blown out to 
sea. 

An officer of the Royal Engineers stood on the sea- 
ward edge of this yawning abyss, then he walked over 
to the almost circular body of water which occupied 
the place where the fishing-village had been, and into 
which the waters of the bay had flowed. When this 
officer returned to London, he wrote a report to the 
effect that a ship-canal, less than an eighth of a mile 
long, leading from the newly formed lake at the head 
of the bay, would make of this chasm, when filled by 
the sea, the finest and most thoroughly protected in- 
land basin, for ships of all sizes, on the British coast. 
But before this report received due official considera- 
tion, the idea had been suggested and elaborated in a 
dozen newspapers. 

Accounts and reports of all kinds describing the 
destruction of Caerdaff, and of the place in which it 
had stood, filled the newspapers of the world. Photo - 
118 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


graphs and pictures of Caerdaff as it had been, and as 
it then was, were produced with marvellous rapidity, 
and the earthquake bomb of the American War Syn- 
dicate was the subject of excited conversation in every 
civilized country. 

The British ministry was now the calmest body of 
men in Europe. The great opposition storm had died 
away, the great war storm had ceased, and the wisest 
British statesmen saw the unmistakable path of na- 
tional policy lying plain and open before them. 
There was no longer time for arguments and strug- 
gles with opponents or enemies, internal or external. 
There was even no longer time for the discussion of 
measures. It was the time for the adoption of a 
measure which indicated itself, and which did not 
need discussion. 

On the afternoon of the day of the bombardment of 
Caerdaff, Bepeller No. 11, accompanied by her crabs, 
steamed for the English Channel. Two days after- 
wards, there lay off the coast at Brighton, with a 
white flag floating high above her, the old Tallapoosa , 
now naval mistress of the world. 

Near by lay a cable-boat, and constant communica- 
tion, by way of France, was kept up between the 
officers of the American Syndicate and the repeller. 
In a very short time, communications were opened 
between the repeller and London. 

When this last step became known to the public of 
America, almost as much excited by the recent 
events as the public of England, a great disturbance 
arose in certain political circles. It was argued that 
the Syndicate had no right to negotiate in any way 
with the government of England— that it had been 
119 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


empowered to carry on a war, and that, if its duties 
in this regard had been satisfactorily executed, it 
must now retire, and allow the United States govern- 
ment to attend to its foreign relations. 

But the Syndicate was firm. It had contracted to 
bring the war to a satisfactory conclusion. When it 
considered that this had been done, it would retire, 
and allow the American government, with whom the 
contract had been made, to decide whether or not it 
had been properly performed. 

The unmistakable path of national policy which 
had shown itself to the wisest British statesmen ap- 
peared broader and plainer when the overtures of the 
American War Syndicate had been received by the 
British government. The ministry now perceived 
that the Syndicate had not waged war : it had been 
simply exhibiting the uselessness of war as at present 
waged. Who now could deny that it would be folly 
to oppose the resources of ordinary warfare to those 
of what might be called prohibitive warfare ? 

Another idea arose in the minds of the wisest Brit- 
ish statesmen. If prohibitive warfare were a good 
thing for America, it would be an equally good thing 
for England. More than that, it would be a better 
thing if only these two countries possessed the power 
of waging prohibitive warfare. 

In three days a convention of peace was concluded 
between Great Britain and the American Syndicate, 
acting for the United States, its provisions being 
made subject to such future treaties and alliances as 
the governments of the two nations might make with 
each other. In six days after the affair at Caerdaff, a^ 
120 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


committee of the American War Syndicate was in 
London, making arrangements, under the favorable 
auspices of the British government, for the formation 
of an Anglo-American Syndicate of War. 

The Atlantic Ocean now sprang into new life. It 
seemed impossible to imagine whence had come the 
multitude of vessels which now steamed and sailed 
upon its surface. Among these, going westward, were 
six crabs and the spring-armored vessel, once the 
Tallapoosa , going home to a triumphant reception, 
such as had never before been accorded to any vessel, 
whether of war or peace. 

The blockade of the Canadian port, which had been 
effectively maintained without incident, was now 
raised, and the Syndicate’s vessels proceeded to an 
American port. 

The British ironclad Adamant , at the conclusion of 
peace, was still in tow of Crab C, and off the coast of 
Florida. A vessel was sent down the coast by the 
Syndicate to notify Crab C of what had occurred, and 
to order it to tow the Adamant to the Bermudas, and 
there to deliver her to the British authorities. The 
vessel sent by the Syndicate, which was a fast coast 
steamer, had scarcely hove in sight of the objects of 
her search when she was saluted by a ten-inch shell 
from the Adamant , followed almost immediately by 
two others. The commander of the Adamant had no 
idea that the war was at an end, and had never failed, 
during his involuntary cruise, to fire at anything 
which bore the American flag, or looked like an 
American craft. 

Fortunately, the coast steamer was not struck, and, 
121 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


at the top of her speed, retired to a greater distance, 
whence the Syndicate officer on board communicated 
with the crab by smoke signals. 

During the time in which Crab C had had charge 
of the Adamant, no communication had taken place 
between the two vessels. Whenever an air-pipe had 
been elevated for the purpose of using therein a 
speaking-tube, a volley from a machine-gun on the 
Adamant was poured upon it, and after several pipes 
had been shot away, the director of the crab ceased 
his efforts to confer with those on the ironclad. It 
had been necessary to place the outlets of the ven- 
tilating apparatus of the crab under the forward ends 
of some of the upper roof-plates. 

When Crab C had received her orders, she put 
about the prow of the great war-ship, and proceeded 
to tow her northeastward, the commander of the Ada- 
mant taking a parting crack with his heaviest stern 
gun at the vessel which had brought the order for his 
release. 

All the way from the American coast to the Ber- 
muda Islands, the great Adamant blazed, thundered, 
and roared, not only because her commander saw, or 
fancied he saw, an American vessel, but to notify all 
crabs, repellers, and any other vile invention of the 
enemy that may have been recently put forth to 
blemish the sacred surface of the sea, that the Ada- 
mant still floated, with the heaviest coat of mail and 
the finest and most complete armament in the world, 
ready to sink anything hostile which came near 
enough— but not too near. 

When the commander found that he was bound for 
the Bermudas, he did not understand it, unless, those 
122 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


islands liad been captured by the enemy. But be did 
not stop firing. Indeed, should he find the Bermudas 
under the American flag, he would fire at that flag, 
and whatever carried it, as long as a shot or a shell or 
a charge of powder remained to him. 

But when he reached British waters, and, slowly 
entering St. George’s harbor, saw around him the 
British flag, floating as proudly as it floated above his 
own great ship, he confessed himself utterly bewil- 
dered. But he ordered the men at every gun to stand 
by their piece until he was boarded by a boat from 
the fort, and informed of the true state of affairs. 

But even then, when weary Crab C raised herself 
from her fighting depth, and steamed to a dock, the 
commander of the Adamant could scarcely refrain 
from sending a couple of tons of iron into the beastly 
sea- devil which had had the impertinence to tow him 
about against his will. 

No time was lost by the respective governments of 
Great Britain and the United States in ratifying the 
peace made through the Syndicate, and in concluding 
a military and naval alliance, the basis of which 
should be the use by these two nations, and by no 
other nations, of the Instantaneous Motor. The treaty 
was made and adopted with much more despatch than 
generally accompanies such agreements between na- 
tions, for both governments felt the importance of 
placing themselves, without delay, in that position 
from which, by means of their united control of para- 
mount methods of warfare, they might become the 
arbiters of peace. 

The desire to evolve that power which should 
render opposition useless had long led men from one 
123 


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warlike invention to another. Every one who had 
constructed a new kind of gun, a new kind of armor, 
or a new explosive, thought that he had solved the 
problem, or was on his way to do so. The inventor 
of the Instantaneous Motor had done it. 

The treaty provided that all subjects concerning 
hostilities between either or both of the contracting 
powers and other nations should be referred to a 
joint high commission, appointed by the two powers, 
and, if war should be considered necessary, it should 
be prosecuted and conducted by the Anglo-American 
War Syndicate, within limitations prescribed by the 
high commission. 

The contract made with the new Syndicate was of 
the most stringent order, and contained every pro- 
vision that ingenuity or foresight of man could invent 
or suggest to make it impossible for the Syndicate to 
transfer to any other nation the use of the Instanta- 
neous Motor. 

Throughout all classes in sympathy with the ad- 
ministrative parties of Great Britain and the United 
States there was a feeling of jubilant elation on ac- 
count of the alliance and the adoption by the two 
nations of the means of prohibitive warfare. This 
public sentiment acted even upon the opposition, and 
the majority of army and navy officers in the two 
countries felt bound to admit that the arts of war in 
which they had been educated were things of the 
past. Of course there were members of the army and 
navy in both countries who deprecated the new state 
of things. But there were also men, still living, who 
deprecated the abolition of the old wooden seventy- 
four-gun ship. 


124 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


A British artillery officer, conversing with a member 
of the American Syndicate at a London club, said to 
him : 

“Do you know you made a great mistake in 
the beginning of your operations with the motor 
guns? If you had contrived an attachment to the 
motor which should have made an infernal thunder- 
clap and a storm of smoke at the moment of discharge, 
it would have saved you a lot of money and time and 
trouble. The work of the motor on the Canadian 
coast was terrible enough, but people could see no 
connection between that and the guns on your vessels. 
If you could have sooner shown that connection, you 
might have saved yourselves the trouble of crossing 
the Atlantic. And, to prove this, one of the most 
satisfactory points connected with your work on the 
Welsh coast was the jet of smoke which came from 
the repeller every time she discharged a motor. If 
it had not been for those jets, I believe there would 
be people now in the opposition who would swear 
that Caerdaff had been mined, and that the ministry 
were a party to it.” 

“Your point is well taken,” said the American, 
“and should it ever be necessary to discharge any 
more bombs,— which I hope it may not be,— we shall 
take care to show a visible and audible connection 
between cause and effect.” 

“The devil take it, sir ! ” cried an old captain of an 
English ship of the line, who was sitting near by. 
“What you are talking about is not war ! We 
might as well send out a codfish trust to settle na- 
tional disputes. In the next sea-fight we’ll save our- 
selves the trouble of gnawing and crunching at the 
125 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


sterns of the enemy. We’ll simply send a note aboard, 
requesting the foreigner to be so good as to send us 
his rudder by bearer, which, if properly marked and 
numbered, will be returned to him on the conclusion 
of peace. This would do just as well as twisting it 
off, and save expense. No, sir, I will not join you in 
a julep ! /have made no alliance over newfangled in- 
ventions ! Waiter, fetch me some rum and hot water ! ” 

In the midst of the profound satisfaction with 
which the members of the American War Syndicate 
regarded the success of their labors, — labors alike 
profitable to themselves and to the recently contend- 
ing nations, — and in the gratified pride with which 
they received the popular and official congratulations 
which were showered upon them, there was but one 
little cloud, one regret. 

In the course of the great Syndicate War a life had 
been lost. Thomas Hutchins, while assisting in the 
loading of coal on one of the repellers, was acciden- 
tally killed by the falling of a derrick. 

The Syndicate gave a generous sum to the family 
of the unfortunate man, and throughout the United 
States the occurrence occasioned a deep feeling of 
sympathetic regret. A popular subscription was 
started to build a monument to the memory of 
Hutchins, and contributions came, not only from all 
parts of the United States, but from many persons in 
Great Britain who wished to assist in the erection of 
this tribute to the man who had fallen in the contest 
which had been of as much benefit to their country as 
to his own. 

Some weeks after the conclusion of the treaty, a 
public question was raised, which at first threatened 
126 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


to annoy the American government, but it proved to 
be of little moment. An anti-administration paper 
in Peakville, Arkansas, asserted that in the whole of 
the published treaty there was not one word in regard 
to the fisheries question, the complications arising 
from which had been the cause of the war. Other 
papers took up the matter, and the government then 
discovered that, in drawing up the treaty, the fisheries 
business had been entirely overlooked. There was a 
good deal of surprise in official circles when this dis- 
covery was announced, but, as it was considered that 
the fisheries question was one which would take care 
of itself, or be readily disposed of in connection with 
a number of other minor points which remained to be 
settled between the two countries, it was decided to 
take no notice of the implied charge of neglect, and 
to let the matter drop. And as the opposition party 
took no real interest in the question, but little more 
was said about it. 

Both countries were too well satisfied with the 
general result to waste time or discussion over small 
matters. Great Britain had lost some forts and some 
ships, but these would have been comparatively use- 
less in the new system of warfare. On the other hand, 
she had gained, not only the incalculable advantage 
of the alliance, but a magnificent and unsurpassed 
landlocked basin on the coast of Wales. 

The United States had been obliged to pay an im- 
mense sum on account of the contract with the War 
Syndicate, but this was considered money so well 
spent, and so much less than an ordinary war would 
have cost, that only the most violent anti-adminis- 
tration journals ever alluded to it. 

127 


THE GREAT WAR SYNDICATE 


Reduction of military and naval forces, and gradual 
disarmament, was now the policy of the allied nations. 
Such forces and such vessels as might be demanded 
for the future operations of the War Syndicate were 
retained. A few field batteries of motor guns were 
all that would be needed on land, and a comparatively 
small number of armored ships would suffice to carry 
the motor guns that would be required at sea. 

Now there would be no more mere exhibitions of 
the powers of the Instantaneous Motor bomb. Here- 
after, if battles must be fought, they would be battles 
of annihilation. 

This is the history of the Great Syndicate War. 
Whether or not the Anglo-American Syndicate was 
ever called upon to make war, it is not to be stated 
here. But certain it is that, after the formation of 
this Syndicate, all the nations of the world began to 
teach English in their schools, and the Spirit of Civili- 
zation raised her head with a confident smile. 


128 


THE STORIES OF THE THREE 
BURGLARS 



THE STORIES OF THE THREE 
BURGLARS 


I AM a householder in a pleasant country neighbor- 
hood, about twenty miles from New York. My 
family consists of myself and wife, our boy, George 
William, aged two, two maid-servants, and a man $ 
but in the summer we have frequent visitors, and at 
the time of which I am about to write my Aunt 
Martha was staying with us. 

My house is large and pleasant, and we have neigh- 
bors near enough for social purposes and yet not too 
near or too many to detract from the rural aspect of 
our surroundings. But we do not live in a Paradise. 
We are occasionally troubled by mosquitoes and burg- 
lars. 

Against the first of these annoyances we have al- 
ways been able to guard ourselves,— at least, in a 
measure,— and our man and the cook declare they 
have become so used to them that they do not mind 
them. But to guard against burglars is much more 
difficult, and to become used to them would, I think, 
require a great deal of practice. 

For several months before the period of this nar- 
rative, our neighborhood had been subject to visits 
131 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


from burglars. From time to time, houses had been 
entered and robbed, and the offenders had never been 
detected. 

We had no police force, not even a village organi- 
zation. There was a small railway station near our 
house, and six miles away was the county town. For 
fire and police protection each household was obliged 
to depend upon itself. 

Before the beginning of the burglarious enterprises 
in our midst, we had not felt the need of much pro- 
tection in this direction. Sometimes poultry was 
stolen, but this was a rare occurrence, and, although 
windows and doors were generally fastened for the 
night, this labor was often considered much more 
troublesome than necessary. But now a great change 
had taken place in the feelings of our community. 
When the first robbery occurred the neighbors were 
inclined to laugh about it, and to say that Captain 
Hubbard’s habit of sitting up after the rest of his 
family had gone to bed, and then retiring and for- 
getting to close the front door, had invited the en- 
trance of a passing tramp. But when a second and a 
third house, where windows and doors had not been 
left open, had been entered and, in a measure, de- 
spoiled, people ceased to laugh, and, if there had 
been any merriment at all on the subject, it would 
have been caused by the extraordinary and remark- 
able precautions taken against the entrance of thieves 
by night. The loaded pistol became the favorite 
companion of the head of the house. Those who had 
no watch-dogs, bought them. There were new locks, 
new bolts, new fastenings. At one time there was a 
mounted patrol of young men, which, however, was 
132 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


soon broken up by their mothers. But this trouble was 
unavailing, for, at intervals, the burglaries continued. 

As a matter of course, a great many theories were 
broached as to the reasons for this disturbance in our 
hitherto peaceful neighborhood. We were at such a 
distance from the ordinary centers of crime that it 
was generally considered that professional burglars 
would hardly take the trouble to get to us or to get 
away from us, and that, therefore, the offences were 
probably committed by unsuspected persons living in 
this part of the country, who had easy means of deter- 
mining which houses were worth breaking into, and 
what method of entrance would be most feasible. In 
this way some families, hitherto regarded as respect- 
able families, had fallen under suspicion. 

So far, mine was the only house of any importance 
within the distance of a mile from the station which 
had not, in some way, suffered from burglars. In one 
or two of these cases the offenders had been frightened 
away before they had done any other injury than the 
breaking of a window-shutter, but we had been spared 
any visitation whatever. After a time we began to 
consider that this was an invidious distinction. Of 
course, we did not desire that robbers should break 
into our house and steal, but it was a sort , of implied 
insult that robbers should think that our house was 
not worth breaking into. We contrived, however, 
to bear up under this implied contempt, and even 
under the facetious imputations of some of our lively 
neighbors, who declared that it looked very suspicious 
that we should lose nothing, and even continue to 
add to our worldly goods, while everybody else was 
suffering from abstractions. 

133 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

I did not, however, allow any relaxation in my 
vigilance in the protection of my house and family. 
My time to suffer had not yet arrived, and it might 
not arrive at all, but, if it did come, it should not be 
my fault. I, therefore, carefully examined all the new 
precautions my neighbors had taken against the en- 
trance of thieves, and, where I approved of them, I 
adopted them. 

Of some of these my wife and I did not approve. 
For instance, a tin pan containing iron spoons, the 
dinner-bell, and a miscellaneous collection of hard- 
ware, balanced on the top stair of the staircase, and so 
connected with fine cords that a thief coming up the 
stairs would send it rattling and bounding to the bot- 
tom, was looked upon by us with great disfavor. The 
descent of the pan, whether by innocent accident or the 
approach of a burglar, might throw our little boy 
into a fit, to say nothing of the terrible fright it 
would give my Aunt Martha, who was a maiden lady 
of middle age, and not accustomed to a clatter in the 
night. A bull-dog in the house my wife would not 
have, nor, indeed, a dog of any kind. George Wil- 
liam was not yet old enough to play with dogs, espe- 
cially a sharp one— and if the dog were not sharp, it 
was of no use to have him in the house. To the ordi- 
nary burglar-alarm she strongly objected. She had 
been in houses where these things went off of their 
own accord, occasioning great consternation, and, 
besides, she said, if thieves got into the house, she 
did not want to know it, and she did not want me to 
know it. The quicker they found what they came for, 
and went away with it, the better. Of course, she 
wished them kept out, if such a thing were possible, 
134 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


but if they did get in, our duty, as parents of the 
dearest little boy, was non-interference. She insisted, 
however, that the room in which the loveliest of chil- 
dren slept, and which was also occupied by ourselves, 
should be made absolutely burglar-proof, and this 
object, by means of extraordinary bolts and chains, I 
flattered myself I accomplished. My Aunt Martha 
had a patent contrivance for fastening a door, that she 
always used, whether at home or travelling, and in 
whose merit she placed implicit confidence. Therefore, 
we did not feel it necessary to be anxious about her. 
And the servants slept at the top of the house, where 
thieves would not be likely to go. 

“They may continue to slight us by their absence,” 
said my wife, “but I do not believe that they will be 
able to frighten us by their presence.” 

I was not, however, so easily contented as my wife. 
Of course, I wished to do everything possible to pro- 
tect George William and the rest of the family, but I 
was also very anxious to protect our property in all 
parts of the house. Therefore, in addition to every- 
thing else I had done, I devised a scheme for inter- 
fering with the plans of men who should feloniously 
break into our home. 

After a consultation with a friend, who was a physi- 
cian greatly interested in the study of narcotic drugs, 
I procured a mixture which was almost tasteless and 
without peculiar odor, and of which a small quantity 
would, in less than a minute, throw an ordinary man 
into a state of unconsciousness. The potion was, 
however, no more dangerous in its effects than that 
quantity of ardent spirits which would cause entire 
insensibility. After the lapse of several hours, the 
135 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


person under the influence of the drug would recover 
consciousness without assistance. But, in order to 
provide against all contingencies, my friend prepared 
a powerful antidote, which would almost immediately 
revive one who had been made unconscious by our 
potion. 

The scheme that I had devised may possibly have 
been put into use by others, but of this I know not. 
I thought it a good scheme, and determined to ex- 
periment with it, and, if possible, to make a trap 
which should catch a burglar. I would reveal this plan 
to no one but my friend the physician and my wife. 
Secrecy would be an important element in its success. 

Our library was a large and pleasant room on the 
ground floor of the house, and here I set my trap. It 
was my habit to remain in this room an hour or so 
after the rest of the family had gone to bed, and, as I 
was an early riser, I was always in it again before it 
was necessary for a servant to enter it in the morning. 

Before leaving the library for the night, I placed in 
a conspicuous position in the room a small table, on 
which was a tray holding two decanters partially 
filled with wine, in the one red and in the other 
white. There was also upon the tray an open box of 
biscuit and three wine-glasses, two of them with a 
little wine at the bottom. I took pains to make it 
appear that these refreshments had been recently 
partaken of. There were biscuit crumbs upon the 
tray, and a drop or two of wine was freshly spilled 
upon it every time the trap was set. The table, thus 
arranged, was left in the room during the night, and 
early in the morning I put the tray and its contents 
into a closet and locked it up. 

136 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


A portion of my narcotic preparation was thoroughly 
mixed with the contents of each of the decanters, in 
such proportions that a glass of the wine would be 
sufficient to produce the desired effect. 

It was my opinion that there were few men who, 
after a night walk and perhaps some labor in forcibly 
opening a door or a window-shutter, would not cease 
for a moment in pursuance of their self-imposed task 
to partake of the refreshments so conveniently left 
behind them by the occupants of the house when they 
retired to rest. Should my surmises be correct, I 
might reasonably expect, should my house be broken 
into, to find an unconscious burglar in the library 
when I went down in the morning. And I was sure, 
and my wife agreed with me, that if I should find a 
burglar in that room, or in any other part of the house, 
it was highly desirable that he should be an uncon- 
scious one. 

Night after night I set my burglar- trap, and morn- 
ing after morning I locked it up in the closet. I 
cannot say that I was exactly disappointed that no 
opportunity offered to test the value of my plan, but 
it did seem a pity that I should take so much trouble 
for nothing. It had been some weeks since any burg- 
laries had been committed in the neighborhood, and 
it was the general opinion that the miscreants had 
considered this field worked out, and had transferred 
their labors to a better paying place. The insult of 
having been considered unworthy the attention of the 
knights of the midnight jimmy remained with us, but 
as all our goods and chattels also remained with us, we 
could afford to brook the indignity. 

As the trap cost nothing my, wife did not object to 
137 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


my setting it every night, for the present. Something 
might happen, she remarked, and it was just as well 
to he prepared in more ways than one. But there was 
a point upon which she was very positive. 

“When George William is old enough to go about 
the house by himself,” she said, “those decanters must 
not be left exposed upon the table. Of course, I do 
not expect him to go about the house drinking wine 
and everything that he finds, but there is no knowing 
what a child, in the first moments of his investigative 
existence, may do.” 

For myself, I became somewhat tired of acting my 
part in this little farce every night and morning, but 
when I have undertaken anything of this sort, I am 
slow to drop it. 

It was about three weeks since I had begun to set 
my trap when I was awakened in the night by a 
sudden noise. I sat up in bed, and, as I did so, my 
wife said to me sleepily: “What is that? Was it 
thunder ? There it is again ! ” she exclaimed, starting 
up. “What a crash ! It must have struck some- 
where.” 

I did not answer. It was not thunder. It was 
something in the house. And it flashed into my mind 
that perhaps my trap had been sprung. I got out of 
bed and began rapidly to dress. 

“What are you going to do?” anxiously asked my 
wife. 

“I’m going to see what has happened,” said I. 

At that moment there was another noise. This was 
like two or three heavy footsteps, followed by a sudden 
thump, but it was not so loud as the others. 

“John,” cried my wife, “don’t stir an inch ! It’s 
138 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


burglars ! ” And she sprang out of bed and seized me 
by the arm. 

“I must go down/’ I said. “But there is really no 
reason for your being frightened. I shall call David, 
and shall carry my pistol, so there is really no danger. 
If there are thieves in the house, they have probably 
decamped by this time— that is, if they are able to 
do so, for of course they must know that that noise 
would awaken the soundest sleepers.” 

My wife looked at me, and then slowly withdrew 
her hands from my arm. 

“Promise me,” she said, “if you find a burglar down- 
stairs in the possession of his senses, you will imme- 
diately come back to me and George William.” 

I promised her, and, putting on my coat, I went 
out into the second-story hall. I carried no light 
Before I had reached the bottom of the back stairs, 
I heard David, my man, coming down. To be sure 
it was he, and not a burglar, I spoke to him in a low 
voice, my pistol raised in case of an unsatisfactory 
reply. 

“I heard that noise, sir,” he whispered, “and was 
going down to see about it.” 

“Are you ready, if it’s thieves'? ” I whispered. 

“I have got the biscuit-beater,” he replied. 

“Come on, then,” said I, and we went down-stairs. 

I had left no light in the library, but there was 
one there now, and it shone through the open door 
into the hallway. We stopped and listened. There 
was no sound, and, slowly and cautiously, we ap- 
poached the door of the library. The scene I beheld 
astounded me, and involuntarily I sprang back a step 
or two. So did David. But in an instant we saw that 
139 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


there was no need of retreat or defence. Stretched 
upon the floor, not far from the doorway, lay a tall 
man, his face upturned to the light of a bull’s-eye 
lantern which stood by the mantelpiece. His eyes 
were shut, and it was evident that he was perfectly 
insensible. Near by, in the wreck of the small table, 
glasses, and decanters, lay another man, apparently 
of heavier build. He also was as still as a corpse. A 
little farther back, half sitting on the floor, with the 
upper part of his body resting against the lounge, was 
another man, with a black mask over his face. 

“Are they dead?” exclaimed David, in an under- 
tone of horror. 

“No,” said I, “they are not dead ; they have been 
caught in my trap.” 

And I must admit that the consciousness of this 
created a proud exultation of spirit within me. I 
had overmatched these rascals— they were prostrated 
before me. If one of them moved, David and I could 
kill him. But I did not believe there would be any 
killing, nor any moving, for the present. 

In a high whisper, which could have been heard 
distinctly all over the house, my wife now called to 
me from the top of the stairs. “What is it? ’’she said. 
“What has happened? ” 

I stepped quickly to the stairway. 

“Everything is all right,” I said in a loud, distinct 
voice, intended to assure my wife that there was no 
necessity for caution or alarm. “I will be with you 
presently.” 

“I am glad to hear that nothing is the matter,” said 
Aunt Martha, now for the first time opening her door. 
“I was afraid something had happened.” 

140 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


But I had business to attend to before I could go 
up-stairs. In thinking over and arranging this plan 
for the capture of burglars, I had carefully considered 
its various processes, and had provided against all the 
contingencies I could think of; therefore, I was not 
now obliged to deliberate what I should do. “Keep 
your eye on them,’ 7 said I to David, “and if one of 
them moves, be ready for him. The first thing to do 
is to tie them, hand and foot.” 

I quickly lighted a lamp, and then took from a shelf 
of the closet a large coil of strong cotton rope, which 
I had provided for such an occasion as the present. 

“Kow,” said I to David, “I will tie them, while you 
stand by to knock over any one of them who attempts 
to get up.” 

The instrument with which David was prepared to 
carry out my orders was a formidable one. In the 
days of my youth my family was very fond of “Mary- 
land biscuit,” which owes much of its delicacy to the 
fact that before baking it is pounded and beaten by 
a piece of heavy iron. Some people used one kind of 
a beater, and some another, but we had had made for 
the purpose a heavy iron club a little over a foot long, 
large and heavy at one end, with a handle at the other. 
In my present household Maryland biscuits were 
never made, but I had preserved this iron beater as a 
memento of my boyhood, and when the burglaries 
began in our vicinity, I gave it to David to keep in 
his room, to be used as a weapon, if necessary. I did 
not allow him to have a pistol, having a regard for 
my own safety in a sudden night alarm, and nothing 
could be more formidable in a hand-to-hand encounter 
than this skull-crushing club. 

141 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


I began with the tall man, and rapidly tied his feet 
together, with many twists of the rope and as many 
knots. I then turned him over, and tied his elbows 
behind him in the same secure way. I had given so 
much thought to the best method of securing a man 
by cords, that I do not think this fellow could pos- 
sibly have released himself when I had finished with 
him. 

David was obeying my orders, and keeping a strict 
watch on the prostrate men, but his emotions of 
amazement were so great that he could not keep them 
down. 

“What is the matter with them, sir ? 77 he said. 
“How did they come so ? 77 

“There is no time for talking now , 77 I answered. 
“I will tell you all about it when the men have been 
secured . 77 

I now turned my attention to the man who was 
partly resting against the lounge. I first tied 
his feet, and before letting him down to the floor, 
so as to get to his arms, I removed his hat and his 
mask, which was made of black muslin. I was sur- 
prised to see the beardless face of a young and very 
good-looking man. He was well dressed, and had the 
general appearance of a person belonging to theatri- 
cal circles. When his arms had been tied, I told 
David he might lay down his biscuit-beater, and help 
me with the third man, who was badly mixed up 
with the debris of the refreshments. We hauled him 
out and tied him up. He was rather a short man, 
and very heavy, but I could see no signs of his having 
been hurt by the smash-up he made in falling. 

We now proceeded to search the insensible burglars 
142 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


for arms. Upon the tall man we found a large re- 
volver, a heavy billy, which looked as if it had seen 
service, and a long-bladed knife. The stout man 
carried two double-barrelled pistols, and, upon one 
of the fingers of his right hand, wore a brass ring with 
a murderous-looking iron protuberance upon it, which, 
when driven forward by his powerful arm, was prob- 
ably more dangerous than a billy. Upon the younger 
man we found no arms at all, and his hip pocket con- 
tained nothing but a small handbook on civil en- 
gineering. 

I now briefly explained to David the nature of the 
trap which had caught the burglars. He gazed upon 
me with a face glowing with amazed admiration. 

“ What a head you’ve got, sir ! ” he exclaimed. 
“I don’t believe there is another man in this State 
who would have thought of that. And what are you 
going to do with ’em now, sir? Hang ’em? That’s 
what ought to be done with ’em, the hounds ! ” 

“All I shall do,” I answered, “will be to keep them 
till daylight, and then I shall send word to the sheriff 
at Kennertown, and have him send officers for them.” 

“Upon my word !” exclaimed David, “they are in 
the worst kind of a box.” 

Now my wife called me again. “What in the world 
are you doing down there ? ” she called. “Why don’t 
you come up-stairs ? ” 

This annoyed me, for I was not yet ready to go 
up -stairs. I wished to resuscitate these fellows, for 
their stupor was so profound I began to fear that 
perhaps they had taken too much of the drug, and 
ought to be brought to their senses as speedily as pos- 
sible. This feeling was due more to my desire that 
143 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


serious injuries should not occur to the rascals while 
in my house than to any concern for them. 

“My dear/’ said I, stepping to the bottom of the 
stairs, “I have some things to attend to down here 
which will occupy me a few minutes longer, then I 
will come up to you.” 

“I can’t imagine what the things are,” she said, 
“but I suppose I can wait,” and she went into her 
room and closed the door after her. 

I now began to consider what was to be done with 
the burglars after they had been resuscitated. My 
first impulse was to rid the house of them by carrying 
them out of doors and bringing them to their senses 
there. But there was an objection to this plan. They 
would be pretty heavy fellows to carry, and it would 
be absolutely necessary to watch them until they 
could be given into the charge of the officers of the 
law. I did not want to stay out of doors to do this, 
for the night air was raw and chilly, and therefore, I, 
determined to keep them in the house. As they could 
be resuscitated better in a sitting position, they must 
be set up, in some way or other. I consulted David 
on the subject. 

“You might put ’em up with their backs ag’in’ the 
wall, sir,” said he, “but the dirty beasts would spoil 
the paper. I wouldn’t keep ’em in a decent room 
like this. I’d haul ’em out into the kitchen, any- 
way.” 

But as they were already in the library, I decided 
to let them stay, and to get them as speedily as 
possible into some position in which they might re- 
main. I bethought me of a heavy wooden settle, or 
bench with back and arms, which stood on the side 
144 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


piazza. With David’s help, I brought this into the 
room, and placed it with its back to the window. 

“Now, then,” said I to David, “we will put them on 
this bench, and I will tie them fast to it. We can- 
not be too careful in securing them, for if one of them 
were to get loose, even without arms, there is no 
knowing what trouble he might make.” 

“Well, sir,” said David, “if I’m to handle ’em at 
all, I’d rather have ’em dead, as I hope they are, 
than have ’em alive. But you needn’t be afraid, sir, 
that any one of ’em will get loose. If I see any signs 
of that, I’ll crack the rascal’s skull in a jiffy.” 

It required a great deal of tugging and lifting to 
get those three men on the bench, but we got them 
there, side by side, their heads hanging listlessly, 
in one way, or another. I then tied each one of them 
firmly to the bench. 

I had scarcely finished this when I again heard my 
wife’s voice from the top of the stairs. 

“If any pipes have burst,” she called down, “tell 
David not to catch the water in the new milk-pans.” 

“Very well,” I replied, “I’ll see to it,” and was re- 
joiced to hear again the shutting of the bedroom door. 

I now saturated a sponge with the powerful prep- 
aration which Dr. Marks had prepared as an anti- 
dote, and held it under the nose of the tall burglar. 
In less than twenty seconds there was a slight quiver- 
ing in his face, as if he were about to sneeze, and very 
soon he did sneeze slightly. Then he sneezed vio- 
lently, raised his head, and opened his eyes. For a 
moment he gazed blankly before him, and then looked 
stupidly at David and at me. But in an instant there 
flashed into his face the look of a wild beast. His 


145 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


quick, glittering eye took in the whole situation at a 
glance. With a furious oath, he threw himself for- 
ward with such a powerful movement that he nearly 
lifted the bench. 

“Stop that,” said David, who stood near him with 
his iron club uplifted. “If you do that again M let 
you feel this.” 

The man looked at him with a fiery flash in his 
eyes, and then he looked at me, as I stood holding 
the muzzle of my pistol within two feet of his face. 
The black and red faded out of his countenance. He 
became pale. He glanced at his companions, bound 
and helpless. His expression now changed entirely. 
The fury of the wild beast was succeeded by a look of 
frightened subjection. Gazing very anxiously at my 
pistol, he said, in a voice which, though agitated, was 
low and respectful : 

“What does this mean? What are you going to 
do? Will you please turn away the muzzle of that 
pistol ? ” 

I took no notice of this indication of my steadiness 
of hand, and answered : 

“I am going to bring these other scoundrels to their 
senses, and early in the morning the three of you will 
be on your way to jail, where I hope you may remain 
for the rest of your lives.” 

“If you don’t get killed on your way there,” said 
David, in whose nervous hand the heavy biscuit- 
beater was almost as dangerous as my pistol. 

The stout man, who sat in the middle of the bench, 
was twice as long in reviving as had been his com- 
panion, who watched the operation with intense in- 
terest. When the burly scoundrel finally became 
146 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


conscious, lie sat for a few minutes gazing at the floor 
with a silly grin, then he raised his head and looked 
first at due of his companions and then at the other, 
gazed for an instant at me and David, tried to move 
his feet, gave a pull at one arm and then at the other, 
and when he found he was bound hard and fast, his 
face turned as red as fire, and he opened his mouth, 
whether to swear or yell I know not. I had already 
closed the door, and before the man had uttered more 
than a premonitory sound, David had clapped the 
end of his bludgeon against his mouth. 

“ Taste that,” he said, “and you know what you 
will get if you disturb this family with any of your 
vile cursin’ and swear in’.” 

“Look here,” said the tall man, suddenly turning 
to the other with an air of authority, “keep your 
mouth shut and don’t speak till you’re spoken to. 
Mind that, now, or these gentlemen will make it the 
worse for you.” 

David grinned as he took away his club. 

“I’d gentlemen you,” he said, “if I could get half a 
chance to do it.” 

The face of the heavy burglar maintained its red- 
ness, but he kept his mouth shut. 

When the younger man was restored to his senses, 
his full consciousness and power of perception seemed 
to come to him in an instant. His eyes flashed from 
right to left, he turned deadly white, and then, merely 
moving his arms and legs enough to make himself 
aware that he was bound, he sat perfectly still, and 
said not a word. 

I now felt that I must go and acquaint my wife 
with what had happened, or otherwise she would be 
147 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


coming down-stairs to see what was keeping me so 
long. David declared that he was perfectly able to 
keep guard over them, and I ran up -stairs. David 
afterwards told me that, as soon as I left the room, the 
tall burglar endeavored to bribe him to cut their 
ropes, and told him, if he were afraid to stay behind 
after doing this, he would get him a much better situa- 
tion than this could possibly be. But as David threat- 
ened personal injury to the speaker if he uttered 
another word of the kind, the tall man said no more. 
But the stout man became very violent and angry, 
threatening all sorts of vengeance on my unfortunate 
man. David said he was beginning to get angry, 
when the tall man, who seemed to have much influ- 
ence over the other fellow, ordered him to keep quiet, 
as the gentleman with the iron club no doubt thought 
he was doing right. The young fellow said never a 
word. 

When I told my wife that I had caught three burg- 
lars, and that they were bound fast in the library, she 
nearly fainted, and when I had revived her, she begged 
me to promise that I would not go down-stairs again 
until the police had carried away the horrible 
wretches. But I assured her that it was absolutely 
necessary for me to return to the library. She then 
declared that she would go with me, and, if anything 
happened, she would share my fate. “ Besides,” she 
said, “if they are tied fast, so they can’t move, I should 
like to see what they look like. I never saw a burg- 
lar.” 

I did not wish my wife to go down-stairs, but as I 
knew there would be no use in objecting, I consented. 
She hastily dressed herself, making me wait for her, 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


and, when she left the room, she locked the door on 
the sleeping George William, in order that no one 
should get at him during her absence. As we passed 
the head of the stairs, the door of my Aunt Martha’s 
room opened, and there she stood, completely dressed, 
with her bonnet on, and a little leather bag in her 
hand. 

“I heard so much talking, and so much going up 
and down stairs, that I thought I would better be 
ready to do whatever had to be done. Is it fire ? ” 

“No,” said my wife. “It’s three burglars, tied in a 
bunch in the library. I am going down to see them.” 

My Aunt Martha gasped, and looked as if she were 
going to sit down on the floor. 

“Goodness gracious!” she said. “If you’re going, 
I’ll go, too. I can’t let you go alone, and I never did 
see a burglar.” 

I hurried down, and left the two ladies on the stairs 
until I was sure everything was still safe, and when 
I saw that there had been no change in the state of 
affairs, I told them to come down. 

When my wife and Aunt Martha timidly looked in 
at the library door, the effect upon them and upon the 
burglars was equally interesting. The ladies each 
gave a start and a little scream, and huddled them- 
selves close to me, and the three burglars gazed at 
them with faces that expressed more astonishment 
than any I had ever seen before. The stout fellow 
gave vent to a smothered exclamation, and the face 
of the young man flushed, but not one of them 
spoke. 

“Are you sure they are tied fast?” whispered my 
Aunt Martha to me. 


149 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“Perfectly,” I answered. “If I had not been sure, I 
should not have allowed you to come down.” 

Thereupon the ladies picked up courage and stepped 
farther into the room. 

“Did you and David catch them?” asked my aunt. 
“And how in the world did you do it? ” 

“I ? ll tell you all about that another time,” I said, 
“and you would better go up-stairs as soon as you 
have seen what sort of people are these cowardly burg- 
lars, who sneak or break into the houses of respectable 
people at night, and rob and steal and ruin other 
people’s property with no more conscience or human 
feeling than is possessed by the rats which steal your 
corn, or the polecats which kill your chickens.” 

“I can scarcely believe,” said Aunt Martha, “that 
that young man is a real burglar.” 

At these words the eyes of the fellow spoken of 
glowed as he fixed them on Aunt Martha, but he did 
not say a word, and the paleness which had returned 
to his face did not change. 

“Have they told you who they are?” asked my 
wife. 

“I haven’t asked them,” I said. “And now, don’t 
you think you would better go up-stairs ? ” 

“It seems to me,” said Aunt Martha, “that those 
ropes must hurt them.” 

The tall man now spoke. “Indeed, they do, 
madam,” he said, in a low voice and very respectful 
manner. “They are very tight.” 

I told David to look at all the cords and see if any 
of them were too tightly drawn. 

“It’s all nonsense, sir,” said he, when he had fin- 
ished the examination. “Hot one of the ropes is a bit 
150 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


too tight. All they want is a chance to pull out their 
ugly hands.” 

“Of course,” said Aunt Martha, “if it would be un- 
safe to loosen the knots, I wouldn’t do it. Are they 
to be sent to prison ? ” 

“Yes,” said I. “As soon as the day breaks, I shall 
send down for the police.” 

I now heard a slight sound at the door, and, turn- 
ing, saw Alice, our maid of the house, peeping in 
at the door. Alice was a modest girl, and quite 
pretty. 

“I heard the noise and the talking, sir,” she said, 
“and when I found the ladies had gone down to see 
what it was, I thought I would come, too.” 

“And where is the cook ? ” asked my wife. “Doesn’t 
she want to see burglars ? ” 

“Not a bit of it,” answered Alice, very emphatically. 
“As soon as I told her what it was, she covered up her 
head with the bedclothes, and declared, ma’am, that 
she would never get up until they were entirely gone 
out of the house.” 

At this the stout man grinned. 

“I wish you’d all covered up your heads,” he said. 

The tall man looked at him severely, and he said 
no more. 

David did not move from his post near the three 
burglars, but he turned toward Alice and looked at 
her. We knew that he had tender feelings toward 
the girl, and I think he did not approve of her being 
there. 

“Have they stolen anything?” asked Aunt Martha. 

“They have not had any chance to take anything 
away,” I said. And my wife remarked that, whether 
151 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


they had stolen anything or not, they had made a 
dreadful mess on the floor, and had broken the table. 
They certainly should be punished. 

At this, she made a motion as if she would leave the 
room, and an anxious expression immediately came 
on the face of the tall man, who had evidently been 
revolving something in his mind. 

“ Madam, ” he said, “we are very sorry we have 
broken your table, and that we have damaged some 
of your glass and your carpet. I assure you, however, 
that nothing of the kind would have happened but 
for that drugged wine, which was doubtless intended 
for a medicine, and not a beverage. But, weary and 
chilled as we were when we arrived, madam, we were 
glad to partake of it, supposing it ordinary wine.” 

I could not help showing a little pride at the suc- 
cess of my scheme. 

“The refreshment was intended for fellows of your 
class, and I am very glad you accepted it.” 

The tall man did not answer me, but he again ad- 
dressed my wife. 

“Madam,” he said, “if you ladies would remain and 
listen to me a few moments, I am sure I would make 
you aware that there is much to extenuate the appar- 
ent offence I have committed to-night.” 

My wife did not answer him, but, turning to me, said, 
smiling, “If he alludes to their drinking your wine, 
he need not apologize.” 

The man looked at her with an expression as if her 
words had pained him. 

“Madam,” he said, “if you would consent to listen 
to my explanations and the story of this affair, I am 
sure your feelings toward me would not be so harsh.” 

152 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“Now, then/’ said my Annt Martha, “if he has a 
story to tell, he ought to be allowed to tell it, even in 
a case like this. Nobody should be judged until he 
has said what he thinks he ought to say. Let us hear 
his story.” 

I laughed. “Any statement he may make,” I said, 
“will probably deserve a much stronger name than 
a story.” 

“I think that what you say is true,” remarked my 
wife, “but still, if he has a story to tell, I should like 
to hear it.” 

I think I heard David give a little grunt, but he 
was too well bred to say anything. 

“Very well,” said I. “If you choose to sit up and 
hear him talk, it is your affair. I shall be obliged to 
remain here anyway, and will not object to anything 
that will help to pass away the time. But these men 
must not be the only ones who are seated. David, 
you and Alice can clear away that broken table and 
the rest of the stuff, and then we might as well sit 
down and make ourselves comfortable.” 

Alice, with cloth and brush, approached very 
timidly the scene of the disaster. But the young burg- 
lar, who was nearest to her, gazed upon her with such 
a gentle and quiet air that she did not seem to be 
frightened. When she and David had put the room 
in fair order, I placed two easy-chairs for my wife 
and Aunt Martha at a moderate distance from the 
burglars, and took another myself, a little nearer to 
them, and then told David to seat himself near the 
other end of the bench, and Alice took a chair at a 
little distance from the ladies. 

“Now, then,” said Aunt Martha to the burglars, “I 
153 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


would like very much to hear what any one of you 
can say in extenuation of having broken into a gentle- 
man’s house by night.” 

Without hesitation, the tall man began his speech. 
He had a long and rather lean, close -shaven face, 
which at present bore the expression of an under- 
taker conducting a funeral. Although it was my 
aunt who had shown the greatest desire to hear his 
story, he addressed himself to my wife. I think he 
imagined that she was the more influential person of 
the two. 

“Madam,” said he, “I am glad of the opportunity 
of giving you and your family an idea of the difficul- 
ties and miseries which beset a large class of your 
fellow-beings, of whom you seldom have a chance of 
knowing anything at all, but of whom you hear all 
sorts of the most misleading accounts. Now, I am a 
poor man. I have suffered the greatest miseries that 
poverty can inflict. I am here, suspected of having 
committed a crime. It is possible I may be put to 
considerable difficulty and expense in proving my 
innocence.” 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” I interrupted. 

To this remark he paid no attention. 

“Considering all this,” he continued, “you may not 
suppose, madam, that, as a boy, I was brought up most 
respectably and properly. My mother was a religious 
woman, and my father was a boat-builder. I was 
sent to school, and my mother has often told me 
I was a good scholar. But she died when I was about 
sixteen, and I am sure, had this not happened, I should 
never have been even suspected of breaking the laws 
of my country. Not long after her death, my father 
154 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


appeared to lose interest in his business, and took to 
rowing about the river, instead of building boats for 
other people to row. Very often he went out at 
night, and I used to wonder why he should care to be 
on the water in the darkness, and sometimes in the 
rain. One evening, at supper, he said to me : ‘ Thomas, 
you ought to know how to row in the dark as well as 
in the daytime. I am going up the river to-night, 
and you can come with me.’ 

“It was about my ordinary bedtime when we took 
a boat with two pair of oars, and pulled up the river 
about three miles above the city.” 

“What city?” I asked. 

“The city where I was born, sir,” he said, “and the 
name of which I must be excused from mentioning, 
for reasons connected with my only surviving parent. 
There were houses on the ' river -bank, but they were 
not very near each other. Some of them had lights 
in them, but most of them were dark, as it must have 
been after eleven o’clock. Before one of them my 
father stopped rowing for a moment, and looked at it 
pretty hard. It seemed to be all dark, but, as we 
pulled on a little, I saw a light in the back of the 
house. 

“My father said nothing, but we kept on, though 
pulling very easy for a mile or two, and then we 
turned and floated down with the tide. ‘You might 
as well rest, Thomas,’ said he, ‘for you have worked 
pretty hard.’ 

“We floated slowly, for the tide was just beginning 
to turn, and when we got near the house which I men- 
tioned, I noticed that there was no light in it. When 
we were about opposite to it, father suddenly looked 
155 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


up and said, not speaking very loud, ‘ By George ! if 
that isn’t Williamson Green’s house. I wasn’t think- 
ing of it when we rowed up, and passed it without 
taking notice of it. I am sorry for that, for I wanted 
to see Williamson, and now I expect he has gone to 
bed.’ 

“‘Who is Mr. Green?’ I asked. 

“‘He is an old friend of mine,’ said my father, ‘and 
I haven’t seen him for some little while now. About 
four months ago he borrowed of me a sextant, quad- 
rant, and chronometer. They were instruments I 
took from old Captain Barney, in payment of some 
work I did for him. I wasn’t using them, and Wil- 
liamson had bought a cat-boat and was studying navi- 
gation. But he has given up that fad now, and has 
promised me, over and over, to send me back my in- 
struments. But he has never done it. If I had thought 
of it, I would have stopped and got them of him, but I 
didn’t think, and now I expect he has gone to bed. 
However, I’ll row inshore and see. Perhaps he’s up 
yet.’ 

“You see, ma’am,” said the speaker to my wife, 
“I am telling you all these particulars because I am 
very anxious you should understand exactly how 
everything happened on this night, which was the 
turning-point of my life.” 

“Very good,” said Aunt Martha. “We want to hear 
all the particulars.” 

“Well, then,” continued the burglar, “we pulled 
up to a stone wall which was at the bottom of 
Green’s place, and made fast, and father got out 
and went up to the house. After a good while, he 
came back and said he was pretty sure William- 
156 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


son Green had gone to bed, and as it wouldn’t do 
to waken people up from their sleep to ask them for 
nautical instruments they had borrowed, he sat down 
for a minute on the top of the wall, and then he 
slapped his knee— not making much noise, though. 

“‘By George ! ’ he said, ‘an idea has just struck me. 
I can play the prettiest trick on Williamson that ever 
was played on mortal man. Those instruments are 
all in a box, locked up, and I know just where he 
keeps it. I saw it not long ago, when I went to his 
house to talk about a yacht he wants built. It is 
on a table in the corner of his bedroom. He was 
taking me through the house to show me the improve- 
ments he had made, and he said to me : “Martin, 
there’s your instruments. I won’t trouble you to take 
them with you, because they are heavy, and you are not 
going straight home. But I’ll bring them to you day 
after to-morrow, when I shall be going your way.” 

“ ‘Now, then,’ said my father, ‘ the trick I am thinking 
of playing on Williamson is this : I would like to take 
that box of instruments out of his room without his 
knowing it, and carry them home, having the boat here 
convenient, and then, in a day or two, to write to him 
and tell him I must have them, because I have a special 
use for them. Of course he’ll be awfully cut up, not 
having them to send back, and when he comes down 
to my place to talk about it, and after hearing all he 
has to say, I’ll show him the box. He’ll be the most 
dumfoundedest man in this State, and, if I don’t 
choose to tell him, he will never know, to his dying day, 
how I got that box. And if he lies awake at night, 
trying to think how I got it, it will serve him right 
for keeping my property from me so long.’ 

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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

“‘ But, father/ said I, ‘if the people have gone to bed, 
you can’t get into the house to play him your trick.’ 

‘“That can be managed/ said he. ‘I’m rather old 
for climbing, myself, but I know a way by which you, 
Thomas, can get in easy enough. At the back of the 
house is a trellis with a grape-vine running over it, 
and the top of it is just under one of the second-story 
windows. You can climb up that trellis, Thomas, 
and lift up that window-sash very carefully, so as not 
to make any noise, and get in. Then you’ll be in a 
back room, with a door right in front of you which 
opens into Mr. and Mrs. Green’s bedroom. There’s 
always a little night-lamp burning in it, by which 
you can see to get about. In the corner, on your 
right as you go into the room, is a table with my 
instrument-box standing on it. The box is pretty 
heavy, and there is a handle on top to carry it by. 
You need not be afraid to go in, for, by this time, 
they are both sound asleep, and you can pick up the 
box and walk out as gingerly as a cat, having, of 
course, taken your shoes off before you went in. Then 
you can hand the box out the back window to me,— I 
can climb up high enough to reach it,— and you can 
scuttle down, and we’ll be off, having the best rig on 
Williamson Green that I ever heard of in my born days.’ 

“I was a very active boy, used to climbing and all 
that sort of thing, and I had no doubt that I could 
easily get into the house, but I did not fancy my 
father’s scheme. 

“‘Suppose/ I said, ‘that Mr. Williamson Green 
should wake up and see me, what could I say ? How 
could I explain my situation ? ’ 

“‘You needn’t say anything/ said my father. ‘If 
158 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


he wakes up, blow out the light and scoot. If yon 
happen to have the box in your hand, drop it out the 
back window, and then slip down after it. He won’t 
see ns, bnt, if he does, he cannot catch us before 
we get to the boat ; but if he should, I will have 
to explain the matter to him, and the joke will be 
against me. But I shall get my instruments, which is 
the main point, after all.’ 

“I did not argue with my father, for he was a man 
who hated to be differed with, and I agreed to help 
him carry out his little joke. We took off our shoes 
and walked quietly to the back of the house. My 
father stood below, and I climbed up the trellis under 
the back window which he pointed out. The window- 
sash was down, all but a little crack to let in air, and 
I raised it so slowly and gently that I made no noise. 
Then, without any trouble at all, I got into the room. 

“I found myself in a moderate-sized chamber, into 
which a faint light came from a door opposite the 
window. Having been several hours out in the night, 
my eyes had become so accustomed to darkness that 
this light was comparatively strong, and I could see 
everything. 

u Looking about me, my eyes fell on a little bed- 
stead, on which lay one of the most beautiful infants 
I ever beheld in my life. Its golden hair lay in ring- 
lets upon the pillow. Its eyes were closed, but its 
soft cheeks had in them a rosy tinge which almost 
equalled the color of its dainty little lips, slightly 
opened as it softly breathed and dreamed.” 

At this point I saw my wife look quickly at the 
bedroom key she had in her hand. I knew she was 
thinking of George William. 

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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“I stood entranced / 7 continued the burglar, “gaz- 
ing upon this babe, for I was very fond of children. 
But I remembered that I must not waste time, and 
stepped softly into the next room. There I beheld 
Mr. and Mrs. Williamson Green in bed, both fast 
asleep, the gentleman breathing a little hard. In a 
corner, just where my father told me I should find it, 
stood the box upon the table. 

“But I could not immediately pick it up and de- 
part. The beautiful room in which I found myself 
was a revelation to me. Until that moment, I had 
not known that I had tastes and sympathies of a 
higher order than might have been expected of the 
youthful son of a boat-builder. Those artistic furnish- 
ings aroused within me a love of the beautiful which 
I did not know I possessed. The carpets, the walls, 
the pictures, the hangings in the windows, the furni- 
ture, the ornaments,— everything, in fact,— impressed 
me with such a delight that I did not wish to move 
or go away. 

“Into my young soul there came a longing. ‘Oh/ 
I said to myself, ‘that my parents had belonged to 
the same social grade as that worthy couple reposing 
in that bed ! and oh, that I, in my infancy, had been 
as beautiful and as likely to be so carefully nurtured 
and cultured as that sweet babe in the next room ! 7 
I almost heaved a sigh as I thought of the difference 
between these surroundings and my own. But I 
checked myself. It would not do to make a noise and 
spoil my father’s joke. 

“There were a great many things in that luxurious 
apartment which it would have delighted me to look 
upon and examine, but I forbore . 77 

160 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

“I wish I’d been there/’ said the stout man. “There 
wouldn’t have been any forbearin’.” 

The speaker turned sharply upon him. 

“Don’t you interrupt me again/’ he said angrily. 

Then, instantly resuming his deferential tone, he 
continued his story : 

“But I had come there by the command of my 
parent, and this command must be obeyed, without 
trifling or loss of time. My father did not approve of 
trifling or loss of time. I moved quietly toward the 
table in the corner, on which stood my father’s box. 
I was just about to put my hand upon it when I 
heard a slight movement behind me. I gave a start 
and glanced backward. It was Mr. Williamson Green 
turning over in his bed. What if he should awake ? 
His back was now toward me, and my impulse was 
to fly, and leave everything behind me. But my father 
had ordered me to bring the box, and he expected 
his orders to be obeyed. I had often been convinced 
of that. 

“I stood perfectly motionless for a minute or so, 
and when the gentleman recommenced his regular 
and very audible breathing, I felt it safe to proceed 
with my task. Taking hold of the box, I found it 
was much heavier than I had expected it to be, but I 
moved gently away with it, and passed into the back 
room. 

“There I could not refrain from stopping a moment 
by the side of the sleeping babe, upon whose cherub- 
like face the light of the night-lamp dimly shone. 
The little child was still sleeping sweetly, and my 
impulse was to stop and kiss it. But I knew this 
would be wrong. The infant might awake and utter 
161 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


a cry, and my father’s would joke be spoiled. I moved 
to the open window, and with some trouble, but, I 
think, without any noise, I succeeded in getting out 
upon the trellis with the box under my arm. The 
descent was awkward, but my father was a tall man, 
and, reaching upward, he relieved me of my burden 
before I got to the ground. 

“‘I didn’t remember it was so heavy,’ he whispered, 
‘or I should have given you a rope to lower it down 
by. If you had dropped it, and spoiled my instru- 
ments, and made a lot of noise besides, I should have 
been angry enough.’ 

“I was very glad my father was not angry, and, fol- 
lowing him over the greensward, we quickly reached 
the boat, where the box was stowed away under the 
bow to keep it from injury. 

“We pushed off as quietly as possible, and rowed 
swiftly down the river. When we had gone about a 
mile, I suddenly dropped my oar, with an exclamation 
of dismay. 

“‘What’s the matter?’ cried my father. 

“‘Oh, I have done a dreadful thing ! ’ I said. ‘Oh, 
father, I must go back ! ’ 

“I am sorry to say that at this my father swore. 

“‘What do you want to go back for ? ’ he said. 

“‘Just to think of it ! I left open the window of the 
room in which that beautiful child was sleeping ! If it 
should take cold and die from the damp air of the 
river blowing upon it, I should never forgive myself. 
Oh, if I had only thought of climbing up the trellis 
again and pulling down that sash ! I am sure I could 
go back and do it without making the least noise.’ 
My father gave a grunt, but what the grunt meant I 
162 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


do not know, and for a few moments he was silent, 
and then he said : 

tu Thomas, you cannot go back. The distance is too 
great, the tide is against us, and it is time that you 
and I were both in our beds. Nothing may happen 
to that baby, but attend to my words now : If any 
harm should come to that child, it would go hard with 
you. If it should die, it would be of no use for you to 
talk about practical jokes. You would be held re- 
sponsible for its death. I was going to say to you 
that it might be as well for you not to say anything 
about this little venture until I had seen how Wil- 
liamson Green took the joke. Some people get angry 
with very little reason, although I hardly believe he’s 
that sort of a man. But now things are different. He 
thinks all the world of that child, which is the only 
one they’ve got, and if you want to stay outside of jail 
or the house of refuge, I warn you never to say a word 
of where you have been this night.’ 

“With this he began to row again, and I followed 
his example, but with a very heavy heart. All that 
night I dreamed of the little child with the damp night 
winds blowing in upon it.” 

“Did you ever hear if it caught cold?” asked Aunt 
Martha. 

“No,” replied the burglar, “I never did. I men- 
tioned the matter to my father, and he said he had 
great fears upon the subject, for, although he had 
written to Williamson Green, asking him to return 
the instruments, he had not seen him or heard from 
him, and he was afraid that the child had died or was 
dangerously sick. Shortly after that, my father sent 
me on a little trip to the Long Island coast, to collect 
163 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


some bills from people for whom he had done work. 
He gave me money to stay a week or two at the sea- 
shore, saying that the change would do me good. And 
it was while I was away on this delightful holiday 
that an event occurred which had a most disastrous 
effect upon my future life. My father was arrested 
for burglary ! 

“It appeared— and I cannot tell you how shocked 
I was when I discovered the truth— that the box 
I had carried away did not contain nautical in- 
struments, but was filled with valuable plate and 
jewels. My unfortunate father heard from a man 
who had been discharged from the service of the 
family whose house he had visited— whose name, by 
the way, was not Green— where the box containing 
the valuables mentioned was always placed at night, 
and he had also received accurate information in 
regard to the situation of the rooms and the best 
method of gaining access to them. 

“I believe that some arrangement had been made 
between my father and this discharged servant in 
regard to a division of the contents of the box, 
and it was on account of a disagreement on this 
subject that the man became very angry, and after 
pocketing what my father thought was his fair 
share, he departed to unknown regions, leaving 
behind a note to the police which led to my father’s 
arrest.” 

“That was a mean trick,” said Aunt Martha. 

The burglar looked at her gratefully. 

“In the lower spheres of life, madam, such things 
often happen. Some of the plate and jewels were 
164 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


found in my father’s possession, and he was speedily 
tried, and sentenced to a long term of imprison- 
ment. And now, can you imagine, ladies,” said the 
tall burglar, apparently having become satisfied to ad- 
dress himself to Aunt Martha as well as to my wife, 
‘ 1 the wretched position in which I found myself t I was 
upbraided as the son of a thief. I soon found myself 
without home, without occupation, and, alas ! without 
good reputation. I was careful not to mention my 
voluntary connection with my father’s crime, for fear 
that, should I do so, I might be compelled to make a 
statement which might increase the severity of his 
punishment. For this reason, I did not dare to make 
inquiries concerning the child in whom I had taken 
such an interest, and whose little life I had, perhaps, 
imperilled. I never knew, ladies, whether that in- 
fant grew up, or not. 

“But I, alas ! grew up to a life of hardship and 
degradation. It would be impossible for persons in 
your sphere of life to understand what I now was 
obliged to suffer. Suitable employment I could not 
obtain, because I was the son of a burglar. With a 
father in the State prison, it was of no use for me to 
apply for employment at any respectable place of 
business. I labored at one thing and another, some- 
times engaging in the most menial employments. I 
had been educated and brought up by my dear 
mother for a very different career. Sometimes I 
managed to live fairly well, sometimes I suffered. 
Always I suffered from the stigma of my father’s 
crime. Always, in the eyes of the community in which 
I lived,— a community, I am sorry to say, incapable, 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


as a rule, of making correct judgments in delicate 
cases like this,— I was looked upon as belonging to 
the ranks of the dishonest. It was a hard lot, and 
sometimes almost impossible to bear up under. 

“I have spoken at length, ladies, in order that you 
may understand my true position, and I wish to say 
that I have never felt the crushing weight of my 
father’s disgrace more deeply than I felt it last even- 
ing. This man,” nodding toward the stout burglar, 
“came to me shortly after I had eaten my supper, 
which happened to be a frugal one, and said to 
me : 

“‘ Thomas, I have some business to attend to to- 
night, in which you can help me, if you choose. I 
know you are a good mechanic.’ 

“‘If it is work that will pay me,’ I answered, ‘I 
should be very glad to do it, for I am greatly in need 
of money.’ 

“‘It will pay,’ said he, and I agreed to assist him. 

“As we were walking to the station, as the business 
to be attended to was out of town, this man, whose 
name is James Barlow, talked to me in such a way 
that I began to suspect he intended to commit a 
burglary, and openly charged him with this evil pur- 
pose. 

“‘You may call it burglary, or anything else you 
please,’ said he. ‘ Property is very unequally divided 
in this world, and it is my business in life to make 
wrong things right, as far as I can. I am going to the 
house of a man who has a great deal more than he 
needs, and I haven’t anything like as much as I need, 
and so I intend to take some of his overplus— not 
very much, for when I leave his house he will still be 
166 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


a rich man, and TO be a poor one. But, for a time, my 
family will not starve.’ 

“‘ Argue as you please, James Barlow,’ I said, ‘ what 
you are going to do is nothing less than burglary.’ 

“‘Of course it is,’ said he, ‘but it’s all right, all the 
same. There are a lot of people, Thomas, who are 
not as particular about these things as they used to be, 
and there is no use for you to seem better than your 
friends and acquaintances. Now, to show that there 
are not so many bigots as there used to be, there’s a 
young man going to meet us at the station who is 
greatly interested in the study of social problems. 
He is going along with us just to look into this sort 
of thing and study it. It is impossible for him to 
understand people of our class, or to do anything to 
make their condition better, if he does not thoroughly 
investigate their methods of life and action. He’s 
going along just as a student, nothing more, and he 
may be down on the whole thing, for all I know. He 
pays me five dollars for the privilege of accompany- 
ing me, and whether he likes it, or not, is his business. 
I want you to go along as a mechanic, and if your 
conscience won’t let you take any share in the profit, 
I’ll just pay you for your time.’ 

“‘James Barlow,’ said I, ‘I am going with you, but 
for a purpose far different from that you desire. I 
shall keep by your side, and if I can dissuade you 
from committing the crime you intend, I shall do so. 
But if I fail in this, and you deliberately break into a 
house for purposes of robbery, I shall arouse the in- 
mates and frustrate your crime.’ Now, James Bar- 
low,” said he, turning to the stout man with a severe 
expression on his strongly marked face, “is not what 
167 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


I have said perfectly true ? Did you not say to me 
every word wliicli I have just repeated?” 

The stout man looked at the other in a very odd 
way. His face seemed to broaden and redden, and he 
merely closed his eyes as he promptly answered : 

“ That’s just what I said, every blasted word of it. 
You’ve told it fair and square, leavin’ off nothin’ 
and puttin’ in nothin’. You’ve told the true facts, 
out and out, up and down, without a break.” 

“Now, ladies,” continued the tall man, “you see my 
story is corroborated, and I will conclude it by saying 
that when this house, in spite of my protest, had been 
opened, I entered with the others, with the firm inten- 
tion of stepping into a hallway, or some other suitable 
place, and announcing in a loud voice that the house 
was about to be robbed. As soon as I found the 
family aroused, and my purpose accomplished, I in- 
tended to depart as quickly as possible, for, on account 
of the shadow cast upon me by my father’s crime, I 
must never be found even in the vicinity of criminal 
action. But, as I was passing through this room, I 
could not resist the invitation of Barlow to partake 
of the refreshments which we saw upon the table. I 
was faint from fatigue and insufficient nourishment. 
It seemed a very little thing to taste a drop of wine 
in a house where I was about to confer a great benefit. 
I yielded to the temptation, and now I am punished. 
By partaking even of that little which did not belong to 
me, I find myself placed in my present embarrassing 
position.” 

“You are right there,” said I. “It must be embar- 
rassing. But, before we have any more reflections, 
there are some practical points about which I wish 
168 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


you would inform me. How did that wicked man— Mr. 
Barlow, I think you called him— get into this house ? ” 

The tall man looked at me for a moment, as if in 
doubt what he should say, and then his expression of 
mingled hopelessness and contrition changed into one 
of earnest frankness. 

“I will tell you, sir, exactly,” he said. “I have no 
wish to conceal anything. I have long wanted to 
have an opportunity to inform occupants of houses, 
especially those in the suburbs, of the insufficiency of 
their window-fastenings. Familiar with mechanical 
devices as I am, and accustomed to think of such 
things, the precautions of householders sometimes 
move me to laughter. Your outer doors, front and 
back, are of heavy wood, chained, locked, and bolted, 
often double-locked and -bolted. But your lower 
windows are closed, in the first place, by the lightest 
kind of shutters, which are very seldom fastened, 
and, in the second place, by a little contrivance con- 
necting the two sashes, which is held in place by a 
couple of baby screws. If these contrivances are of 
the best kind, and cannot be opened from the outside 
with a knife-blade or piece of tin, the burglar puts a 
chisel or jimmy under the lower sash and gently 
presses it upward, when the baby screws come out as 
easily as if they were babies’ milk-teeth. Hot for a 
moment does the burglar trouble himself about the 
front door, with its locks and chains and bolts. He 
goes to the window, with its baby screws, which might 
as well be left open as shut, for all the hinderance it 
is to his entrance, and if he meddles with the door 
at all, it is simply to open it from the inside, so that, 
when he is ready to depart, he may do so easily.” 

169 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“But all that does not apply to my windows,” I 
said. “They are not fastened that way.” 

“No, sir,” said the man. “Your lower shutters are 
solid and strong as your doors. This is right, for if 
shutters are intended to obstruct entrance to a house, 
they should be as strong as the doors. When James 
Barlow first reached this house, he tried his jimmy on 
one of the shutters in this main building, but he could 
not open it. The heavy bolt inside was too strong for 
him. Then he tried another near by, with the same 
result. You will find the shutters splintered at the 
bottom. Then he walked to the small addition at 
the back of the house, where the kitchen is located. 
Here the shutters were smaller, and, of course, the 
inside bolts were smaller. Everything in harmony. 
Builders are so careful nowadays to have everything 
in harmony. When Barlow tried his jimmy on one 
of these shutters, the bolt resisted for a time, but its 
harmonious proportions caused it to bend, and it was 
soon drawn from its staples and the shutter opened, 
and, of course, the sash was opened as I told you sashes 
are opened.” 

“Well,” said I, “shutters and sashes of mine shall 
never be opened in that way again.” 

“It was with that object that I spoke to you,” said 
the tall man. “I wish you to understand the faults 
of your fastenings, and any information I can give 
you which will better enable you to protect your 
house, I shall be glad to give, as a slight repayment 
for the injury I may have helped to do to you in the 
way of broken glass and spoiled carpet. I have made 
window-fastenings an especial study, and, if you em- 
ploy me for the purpose, HI guarantee that I will 
170 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


put your house into a condition which will he abso- 
lutely burglar-proof. If I do not do this to your 
satisfaction, I will not ask to be paid a cent.” 

“We will not consider that proposition now,” I 
said, “for you may have other engagements which 
would interfere with the proposed job.” 

I was about to say that I thought we had had enough 
of this sort of story, when Aunt Martha interrupted me. 

“It seems to me,” she said, speaking to the tall 
burglar, “that you have instincts, and perhaps con- 
victions, of what is right and proper, but it is plain 
that you allow yourself to be led and influenced by 
unprincipled companions. You should avoid even 
the outskirts of evil. You may not know that the 
proposed enterprise is a bad one, but you should not 
take part in it unless you know that it is a good one. 
In such cases you should be rigid.” 

The man turned toward my aunt, and looked stead- 
fastly at her, and, as he gazed, his face grew sadder and 
sadder. 

“Rigid,” he repeated. “That is hard.” 

“Yes,” I remarked, “that is one of the meanings of 
the word.” 

Paying no attention to me, he continued. 

“Madam,” said he, with a deep pathos in his voice, 
“no one can be better aware than I am that I have 
made many mistakes in the course of my life, but that 
quality on which I think I have reason to be satisfied 
with myself is my rigidity when I know a thing is 
wrong. There occurs to me now an instance in my 
career which will prove to you what I say. 

“I knew a man, by the name of Spotkirk, who had 
invented a liniment for the cure of boils. He made 


171 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


a great success with his liniment, which he called 
‘Boilene/ and at the time I speak of he was a very 
rich man. 

“One day Spotkirk came to me, and told me he 
wanted me to do a piece of business for him, for 
which he would pay me twenty -five dollars. I was 
glad to hear this, for I was greatly in need of money, 
and I asked him what it was he wanted me to do. 

‘“You know Timothy Barker/ said he. ‘Well, 
Timothy and I have had a misunderstanding, and I 
want you to be a referee, or umpire, between us, to set 
things straight.’ 

“ ‘Very good/ said I. ‘And what is the point of 
difference ! ’ 

“‘I’ll put the whole thing before you/ said he, ‘for, 
of course, you must understand it, or you can’t talk 
properly to Timothy. How, you see, in the manufac- 
ture of my Boilene I need a great quantity of good 
yellow gravel, and Timothy Barker has got a gravel- 
pit of that kind. Two years ago I agreed with Tim- 
othy that he should furnish me with all the gravel I 
should want for one eighth of one per cent, of the 
profits on the Boilene. We didn’t sign no papers, 
for which I am sorry, but that was the agreement, 
and now Timothy says that one eighth of one per 
cent, isn’t enough. He has gone wild about it, and 
actually wants ten per cent., and threatens to sue me 
if I don’t give it to him.’ 

“ ‘ Are you obliged to have gravel ? W ouldn’t some- 
thing else do for your purpose ? ’ 

“‘There’s nothing as cheap/ said Spotkirk. ‘You 
see, I have to have lots and lots of it. Every day I fill 
a great tank with the gravel, and let water onto it. 

172 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


This soaks through the gravel, and comes out of a 
little pipe in the bottom of the tank, a beautiful yellow 
color. Sometimes it is too dark, and then I have to 
thin it with more water.’ 

“‘Then you bottle it,’ I said. 

“‘Yes,’ said Spotkirk, ‘then there is all the ex- 
pense and labor of bottling it.’ 

“‘Then you put nothing more into it,’ said L 

“‘What more goes into it before it’s corked,’ said 
Spotkirk, ‘is my business. That’s my secret, and 
nobody’s been able to find it out. People have had 
Boilene analyzed by chemists, but they can’t find out 
the hidden secret of its virtue. There’s one thing 
that everybody who has used it does know, and that 
is that it is a sure cure for boils. If applied for two 
or three days, according to directions, and at the 
proper stage, the boil is sure to disappear. As a 
proof of its merit, I have sold seven hundred and 
forty-eight thousand bottles this year.’ 

“‘At a dollar a bottle? ’ said I. 

“ ‘ That is the retail price,’ said he. 

“‘How, then, Mr. Spotkirk,’ said I, ‘it will not be 
easy to convince Timothy Barker that one eighth of 
one per cent, is enough for him. I suppose he hauls 
his gravel to your factory? ’ 

“‘Hauling has nothing to do with it,’ said he. 
‘ Gravel is only ten cents a load anywhere, and, if I 
choose, I could put my factory right in the middle of 
a gravel-pit. Timothy Barker has nothing to com- 
plain of.’ 

“‘But he knows you are making a lot of money,’ 
said I, ‘and it will be a hard job to talk him over. 
Mr. Spotkirk, it’s worth every cent of fifty dollars.’ 

173 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“‘Now, look here/ said he ‘If you get Barker to 
sign a paper that will suit me, I’ll give you fifty dol- 
lars. I’d rather do that than have him bring a suit. 
If the matter comes up in the courts, those rascally 
lawyers will be trying to find out what I put into my 
Boilene, and that sort of thing would be sure to hurt 
my business. It won’t be so hard to get a hold on 
Barker, if you go to work the right way. You can 
just let him understand that you know all about that 
robbery at Bonsall’s clothing store, where he kept the 
stolen goods in his barn, covered up with hay, for 
nearly a week. It would be a good thing for Tim- 
othy Barker to understand that somebody else besides 
me knows about that business, and if you bring it in 
right, it will fetch him around, sure.’ 

“I kept quiet for a minute or two, and then I said : 
‘Mr. Spotkirk, this is an important business. I can’t 
touch it under a hundred dollars.’ 

“He looked hard at me, and then he said : ‘Do it 
right, and a hundred dollars is yours.’ 

“After that I went to see Timothy Barker, and had 
a talk with him. Timothy was boiling over, and con- 
sidered himself the worst cheated man in the world. 
He had only lately found out how Spotkirk made 
his Boilene, and what a big sale he had for it, and he 
was determined to have more of the profits. 

“ ‘ Just look at it ! ’ he shouted. ‘ When Spotkirk has 
washed out my gravel it’s worth more than it was be- 
fore, and he sells it for twenty-five cents a load to put 
on gentlemen’s places. Even out of that he makes a 
hundred and fifty per cent, profit.’ 

“I talked a good deal more with Timothy Barker, 
and found out a good many things about Spotkirk’s 
174 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


dealings with him, and then, in an offhand manner, I 
mentioned the matter of the stolen goods in his barn, 
just as if I had known all about it from the very first. 
At this, Timothy stopped shouting, and became as 
meek as a mouse. He said nobody was as sorry as he 
was when he found the goods concealed in his barn 
had been stolen, and that, if he had known it before 
the thieves took them away, he should have informed 
the authorities. And then he went on to tell me how 
he got so poor and so hard up by giving his whole 
time to digging and hauling gravel for Spotkirk, and 
neglecting his little farm, and that he did not know 
what was going to become of him and his family, if 
he couldn’t make better terms with Spotkirk for the 
future, and he asked me very earnestly to help him in 
this business, if I could. 

“Now, then, I set myself to work to consider this 
business. Here was a rich man oppressing a poor one, 
and here was this rich man offering me one hundred 
dollars— which, in my eyes, was a regular fortune— to 
help him get things so fixed that he could keep on 
oppressing the poor one. Now, then, here was a 
chance for me to show my principles. Here was a 
chance for me to show myself what you, madam, call 
rigid. And rigid I was. I just set that dazzling one 
hundred dollars aside, much as I wanted it. Much as 
I actually needed it, I wouldn’t look at it, or think of 
it. I just said to myself, ‘If you can do any good in 
this matter, do it for the poor man. ’ And I did do it 
for Timothy Barker, with his poor wife and seven chil- 
dren— only two of them old enough to help him in the 
gravel-pit. I went to Spotkirk, and I talked to him, 
and I let him see that if Timothy Barker showed up 
175 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


the Boilene business, as he threatened to do, it would 
be a bad day for the Spotkirk family. He tried hard 
to talk me over to his side. But I was rigid, madam, I 
was rigid, and the business ended in my getting seven 
per cent, of the profits of Boilene for that poor man, 
Timothy Barker, and his large family, and their 
domestic prosperity is entirely due— I say it without 
hesitation— to my efforts on their behalf, and to my 
rigidity in standing up for the poor against the 
rich.” 

“Of course,” I here remarked, “you don’t care to 
mention anything about the money you squeezed out 
of Timothy Barker by means of your knowledge that 
he had been a receiver of stolen goods, and I suppose 
the Boilene man gave you something to get the per- 
centage brought down from ten per cent, to seven.” 

The tall burglar turned and looked at me with an 
air of saddened resignation. 

“Of course,” said he, “it is of no use for a man in 
my position to endeavor to set himself right in the 
eyes of one who is prejudiced against him. My hope 
is that those present who are not prejudiced will give 
my statements the consideration they deserve.” 

“Which they certainly will do,” I continued. Turn- 
ing to my wife and Aunt Martha— “As you have heard 
this fine story, I think it is time for you to retire.” 

“I do not wish to retire,” promptly returned Aunt 
Martha. “I was never more awake in my life, and 
couldn’t go to sleep, if I tried. What we have heard 
may, or may not, be true, but it furnishes subject for 
reflection— serious reflection. I wish very much to 
hear what that man in the middle of the bench has 
to say for himself. I am sure he has a story.” 

176 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

“Yes, ma’am / 7 said the stout man, with animation. 
“I’ve got one, and I’d like nothin’ better than to tell 
it to you, if you’ll give me a little somethin’ to wet 
my lips with— a little beer, or whiskey and water, or 
anything you have convenient.” 

“Whiskey and water ! ” said Aunt Martha, with 
severity. “I should think not ! It seems to me you 
have had all the intoxicating liquors in this house 
that you would want.” 

“But I don’t think you’re the kind of person who’d 
doctor the liquor. This is the first gentleman’s house 
where I ever found anything of that kind.” 

“The worse for the gentlemen,” I remarked. 

The man grunted. 

“Well, ma’am,” he said, “call it anything you 
please— milk, cider, or, if you have nothin’ else, I’ll 
take water. I can’t talk without somethin’ soaky.” 

My wife rose. “If we are to listen to another 
story,” she said, “I want something to keep up my 
strength. I shall go into the dining-room and make 
some tea, and Aunt Martha can give these men some 
of that, if she likes.” 

The ladies now left the room, followed by Alice. 
Presently they called me, and, leaving the burglars in 
charge of the vigilant David, I went to them. I found 
them making tea. 

“I have been up-stairs to see if George William is 
all right, and now I want you to tell me what you 
think of that man’s story,” said my wife. 

“I don’t think it a story at all,” said I. “I call it 
a lie. A story is a relation which purports to be fic- 
tion, no matter how much like truth it may be, and is 
intended to be received as fiction. A lie is a false 


177 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


statement^ made with the intention to deceive; and 
that is what I believe we have heard to-night.” 

“I agree with you exactly;” said my wife. 

“It may be,” said Aunt Martha, “that the man’s 
story is true. There are some things about it which 
make me think so. But if he is really a criminal, he 
must have had trials and temptations which led him 
into his present mode of life. We should consider 
that.” 

“I have been studying him,” I said, “and I think he 
is a born rascal, who ought to have been hung long ago.” 

My aunt looked at me. “John,” she said, “if you 
believe people are born criminals, they ought to be 
executed in their infancy. It could be done pain- 
lessly by electricity, and society would be the gainer, 
although you lawyers would be the losers. But I do 
not believe in your doctrine. If the children of the 
poor were properly brought up and educated, fewer 
of them would grow to be criminals.” 

“I don’t think this man suffered for want of educa- 
tion,” said my wife. “He used very good language. 
That was one of the first things that led me to suspect 
him. It is not likely that sons of boat-builders speak 
so correctly and express themselves so well.” 

“Of course, I cannot alter your opinions,” said Aunt 
Martha, “but the story interested me, and I very 
much wish to hear what that other man has to say 
for himself.” 

“Very well,” said I, “you shall hear it. But I must 
drink my tea, and go back to the prisoners.” 

“And I,” said Aunt Martha, “will take some tea to 
them. They may be bad men, but they must not 
suffer.” 


178 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


I had been in the library but a few moments when 
Aunt Martha entered, followed by Alice, who bore a 
tray containing three very large cups of tea and some 
biscuit. 

“Now, then/ 7 said Aunt Martha to me, “if you will 
untie their hands, I will give them some tea. 77 

At these words, each burglar turned his eyes on me 
with a quick glance. I laughed. 

“Hardly, 77 said I. “I would not be willing to 
undertake the task of tying them up again— unless, 
indeed, they will consent to drink some more of my 
wine. 77 

“Which we won 7 t do, 77 said the middle burglar, 
“and that 7 s flat. 77 

“Then they must drink this tea with their hands 
tied, 77 said Aunt Martha, in a tone of reproachful 
resignation, and, taking a cup from the tray, she 
approached the stout man and held it up to his lips. 
At this act of extreme kindness we were all amused. 
Even the burglar 7 s companions smiled, and David so 
far forgot himself as to burst into a laugh, which, 
however, he quickly checked. The stout burglar, 
however, saw nothing to laugh at. He drank the 
tea, and never drew breath until the cup was emptied. 

“I forgot, 77 said my aunt, as she removed the cup 
from his lips, “to ask you whether you took much or 
little sugar. 77 

“Don 7 t make no difference to me, 77 answered the 
man. “Tea isn 7 t malt liquor. It 7 s poor stuff, anyway, 
and it doesn 7 t matter to me whether it 7 s got sugar in 
it, or not. But it 7 s moistenin 7 , and that 7 s what I want. 
Now, madam, I 7 11 just say to you, if ever I break 
into a room where you 7 re sleepin 7 , I 7 11 see that you 
179 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


don’t come to no harm, even if you sit up in bed and 
holler.” 

“ Thank you,” said Aunt Martha, “but I hope you 
will never again be concerned in that sort of business.” 

He grinned. “That depends on circumstances,” 
said he. 

Aunt Martha now offered the tall man some tea, 
but he thanked her very respectfully, and declined. 
The young man also said that he did not care for tea, 
but that if the maid— looking at Alice— would give 
him a glass of water, he would be obliged. This was 
the first time he had spoken. His voice was low and 
of a pleasing tone. David’s face grew dark, and we 
could see that he objected to this service from Alice. 

“I will give him the water myself,” said Aunt 
Martha. 

This she did, and I noticed that the man’s thirst 
was very soon satisfied. 

When David had been refreshed, and the biscuits 
had been refused by the burglars, who could not very 
well eat them with their hands tied, we all sat down, 
and the stout man began his story. I give it as he 
told it, omitting some coarse and rough expressions, 
and a good deal of slang, which would be unintelligible 
to the general reader. 

“There’s no use,” said the burglar, “for me to try 
and make any of you believe that I’m a pious gentle- 
man under a cloud, for I know I don’t look like it, 
and wouldn’t be likely to make out a case.” 

At this, the tall man looked at him very severely. 

“I don’t mean to say,” he continued, “that my 
friend here tried anything like that. Every word he 
said was perfectly true, as I could personally testify, 
180 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


if I was called upon tlie stand, an’ what I’m goin’ to 
tell you is likewise solid fact. 

“My father was a cracksman, and a first-rate one, 
too. He brought me up to the business, beginning 
when I was very small. I don’t remember havin’ any 
mother, so I’ll leave her out. My old man was very 
particular. He liked to see things done right. One 
day I was with him, and we saw a tinner nailin’ a new 
leader, or tin waterspout, to the side of a house. 

“‘Look here, young man,’ says dad, ‘you’re makin’ 
a pretty poor job of that. You don’t put in enough 
nails, and they ain’t half drove in. Supposin’ there 
was a fire in that house some night, and the family 
had to come down by the spout, and your nails would 
give way, and they’d break their necks— what would 
you think then? And I can tell you what it is, young 
man, I can appear ag’in’ you for doin’ poor work.’ 

“The tinner grumbled, but he used more nails, and 
drove ’em tight, dad and me standin’ by and lookin’ 
at him. One rainy night, not long after this, dad took 
me out with him, and we stopped in front of this 
house. ‘How, Bobbie,’ said he, ‘I want you to climb 
into that open second-story window, and then slip 
down-stairs and open the front door for me. The 
family’s at dinner.’ 

“‘How am I to get up, dad?’ said I. 

“‘Oh, you can go up the spout,’ says he. ‘I’ll war- 
rant it ’ll hold you. I’ve seen to it that it was put on 
good and strong.’ 

“I tried it, and, as far as I can remember, I never 
went up a safer spout.” 

“And you opened the front door?” asked Aunt 
Martha. 


181 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“Indeed I did, ma’am,” said the burglar. “You 
wouldn’t catch me makin’ no mistakes in that line. 

“After a while I got too heavy to climb spouts, and 
I took to the regular business, and did well at it, too.” 

“Do you mean to say,” asked Aunt Martha, “that 
you willingly and premeditatedly became a thief and 
midnight robber? ” 

“That’s what I am, ma’am,” said he. “I don’t make 
no bones about it. I’m a Number One, double-extra, 
back-springed, copper-fastened burglar, with all the 
attachments and noiseless treadle. That’s what I am, 
and no mistake. There’s all kinds of businesses in 
this world, and there’s got to be people to work at 
every one of ’em, and when a fellow takes any par- 
ticular line, his business is to do it well. That’s my 
motto. When I break into a house, I make it a point 
to clean it out first-class, and not to carry away no 
trash, nuther. Of course, I’ve had my ups and my 
downs, like other people. Preachers and doctors and 
storekeepers, they all have ’em, and I guess the 
downs are more amusin’ than the ups— at least, to out- 
siders. I’ve just happened to think of one of ’em, 
and I’ll let you have it. 

“There was a man I knew, named Jerry Hammond, 
that was a contractor, and sometimes he had pretty 
big jobs on hand— buildin’ or road-makin’, or somethin’ 
or other. He’d contract to do anything, would Jerry, 
no matter whether he’d ever done it before, or not. I 
got to know his times and seasons for collecting 
money, and I laid for him.” 

“Abominable meanness ! ” exclaimed my wife. 

“It’s all business,” said the stout man, quite un- 
abashed. “You don’t catch a doctor refusin’ to prac- 
182 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


tise on a friend, or a lawyer, nuther, and in our line 
of business it’s the same thing. It was about the end 
of October, nigh four years ago, that I found out that 
Jerry had a lot of money on hand. He’d been col- 
lectin’ it from different parties, and had got home too 
late in the day to put it in the bank, so says I to 
myself, ‘This is your time, old fellow, and you’d better 
make hay while the sun shines.’ I was a little afraid 
to crack Jerry’s house by myself, for he’s a strong old 
fellow, so I got a man named Putty Henderson to go 
along with me. Putty was a big fellow, and very 
handy with a jimmy, but he was awful contrary - 
minded, and he wouldn’t agree to clean out Jerry 
until I promised to go halves with him. This wasn’t 
fair, for it wasn’t his job, and a quarter would have 
been lots for him. 

“But there' wasn’t no use arguin’, and along we 
went, and about one o’clock we was standin’ alongside 
Jerry’s bed, where he was fast asleep. He was a 
bachelor, and lived pretty much by himself. I give 
him a punch to waken him up, for we’d made up our 
minds that that was the way to work this job. It 
wouldn’t pay us to go around huntin’ for Jerry’s 
money. He was such a sharp old fellow, it was six 
to four we’d never find it. He sat up in bed with 
a jump like a hop -toad, and looked first at one and 
then at the other of us. We both had masks on, and 
it wasn’t puzzlin’ to guess what we was there for. 

“‘Jerry Hammond,’ says I, speakin’ rather rough 
and husky, ‘we knows that you’ve got a lot o’ money 
in this house, and we’ve come for it. We mean busi- 
ness, and there’s no use foolin’. You can give it to 
us quiet and easy, and keep a whole head on your 
183 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


shoulders, or we’ll lay you out ready for a wake and 
help ourselves to the funds. And now, you pays your 
money, and you can take your choice how you do it. 
There’s nothin’ shabby about us, but we mean busi- 
ness. Don’t we, pard?’ ‘ That’s so,’ says Putty. 

“‘Look here,’ says Jerry, jest as cool as if he had 
been sittin’ outside on his own curbstone, ‘I know 
you two men, and no mistake. You’re Tommy Ran- 
dall, and you’re Putty Henderson, so you might as 
well take off them masks.’ ‘Which I am glad to do,’ 
says I, ‘for I hate ’em,’ and I put mine in my pocket, 
and Putty he took off his.” 

“Excuse me,” said Aunt Martha, interrupting at 
this point, “but when Mr. Hammond mentioned the 
name of Tommy Randall, to whom did he refer? ” 

“I can explain that, madam,” said the tall burglar, 
quickly. “This man, by his criminal course of life, 
has got himself into a good many scrapes, and is fre- 
quently obliged to change his name. Since I acciden- 
tally became acquainted with him, he has had several 
aliases, and I think he very often forgets that his real 
name is James Barlow.” 

“That’s so,” said the stout man. “There never was a 
more correct person than this industrious and unfortu- 
nate man sittin’ by me. I am dreadful forgetful, and 
sometimes I disremember what belongs to me, and 
what don’t— names the same as other things. 

“‘Well, now, Jerry,’ says I, ‘you needn’t think 
you’re goin’ to make anything by knowin’ us. You’ve 
got to fork over your cash all the same, and if you 
think to make anything by peachin’ on us after we’ve 
cleared out and left you peaceful in your bed, you’re 
mistook, so far as I’m concerned, for I’ve made the 
184 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


track clear to get out of this town before daybreak, 
and I don’t know when I’ll come back. This place is 
gettin’ a little too hot for me, and you’re my con- 
cludin’ exercise.’ Jerry he sat still for a minute, con- 
siderin’. He wasn’t no fool, and he knowed that there 
wasn’t no use gettin’ scared, nor cussin’, nor hollerin’. 
What’s more, he knowed that we was there to get his 
money, and if he didn’t fork it over he’d get himself 
laid out, and that was worse than losin’ money, any 
day. ‘Now, boys,’ says he, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. 
I’ll make you an offer— a fair and square offer. What 
money I’ve got I’ll divide even with you, each of 
us takin’ a third, and I’ll try to make up what I lose 
out of my next contract. Now, nothin’ could be no 
squarer than that.’ ‘How much money have you 
got, Jerry ? ’ says I. ‘ That’s the first thing to know.’ 
‘I’ve got thirty-one hundred dollars, even,’ says he, 
‘and that will be one thousand and thirty-three dol- 
lars and thirty-three cents apiece. I’ve got bills to 
pay to-morrow for lumber and bricks, and my third 
will pay ’em. If I don’t I’ll go to pieces. You don’t 
want to see me break up business, do you?’ ‘Now, 
Jerry,’ says I, ‘that won’t do. You haven’t got 
enough to divide into three parts. Putty and me 
agree to go halves with what we get out of you, and 
when I lay out a piece of business I don’t make no 
changes. Half of that money is for me, and half is 
for Putty. So just hand it out, and don’t let’s have 
no more jabberin’.’ 

“Jerry he looked at me pretty hard, and then says 
he : ‘You’re about the closest-fisted and meanest man 
I ever met with. Here I offer you a third part of my 
money, and all you’ve got to do is to take it and go 
185 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


away peaceable. I 7 d be willin’ to bet two to one that 
it’s more than you expected to get, and yet you are 
not satisfied. Now, I’ll be hanged if I’m goin’ to do 
business with you.’ ‘ You can be hanged, if you like,’ 
says I, ‘but you’ll do the business all the same.’ ‘No, 
I won’t,’ says he, and he turns to Putty Henderson. 
‘Now, Putty,’ says he, ‘you’ve got a pile more sense 
than this pal of yourn, and I’m goin’ to see if I can’t 
do business with you. Now, you and me together can 
lick this Tommy Randall jest as easy as not, and if 
you’ll help me do it, I’ll not only divide the money 
with you, but I’ll give you fifty dollars extry, so that, 
instead of fifteen hundred and fifty dollars,— that’s all 
he’d given you, if he didn’t cheat you,— you’ll have 
sixteen hundred, and I’ll have fifteen hundred instead 
of the thousand and thirty-three dollars which I 
would have had left if my first offer had been took. 
So, Putty, what do you say to that? ’ Now, Putty he 
must have been a little sore with me on account of 
the arguments we’d had about dividin’, and he was 
mighty glad, besides, to get the chance of makin’ fifty 
dollars extry, and so he said it was all right, and he’d 
agree. Then I thought it was about time for me to 
take in some of my sail, and says I : ‘Jerry, that’s a 
pretty good joke, and you can take my hat as soon as 
I get a new one, but, of course, I don’t mean to be 
hard on you, and if you really have bills to pay to- 
morrow, I’ll take a third, and Putty’ll take another, 
and we’ll go away peaceful.’ ‘No, you won’t,’ sings 
out Jerry, and with that he jumps out of bed right at 
me, and Putty Henderson he comes at me from the 
other side, and, between the two, they gave me the 
worst lickin’ I ever got in my born days, and then 
186 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


they dragged me down-stairs and kicked me out the 
front door, and I had hardly time to pick myself up 
before I saw a policeman about a block off, and if he 
hadn’t been a fat one he’d had me, sure. It wouldn’t 
have been pleasant, for I was a good deal wanted 
about that time. 

“So you see, ladies and gents, it’s true what I said— 
things don’t always go right in our line of business, no 
more than any other one.” 

“I think you were served exactly right,” said Aunt 
Martha, “and I wonder such an experience did not 
induce you to reform.” 

“It did, ma’am, it did,” said the burglar. “I made 
a vow that night that if ever again I had to call in 
any one to help me in business of that kind, I wouldn’t 
go pards with him. I’d pay him so much for the job, 
and I’d take the risks. And I’ve stuck to it. 

“But even that don’t always work. Luck some- 
times goes ag’in’ a man, even when he’s working by 
himself. I remember a thing of that kind that was 
beastly hard on me. A gentleman employed me to 
steal his daughter.” 

“What ! ” exclaimed my wife and Aunt Martha. 
“Steal his own daughter! What do you mean by 
that?” 

“That’s what it was,” said the stout burglar, “no 
more nor less. I was recommended to the gent as a 
reliable party for that sort of thing, and I met him to 
talk it over, and then he told me just how the case 
stood. He and his wife were separated, and the 
daughter, about eleven years old, had been given to 
her by the court, and she put it into a boardin’-school, 
and the gent he was goin’ to Europe, and he wanted 
187 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


to get the little gal and take her with him. He tried 
to get her once, but it slipped up, and so there wasn’t 
no good in his showin’ hisself at the school any more, 
which was in the country, and he knowed that if he 
expected to get the gal he’d have to hire a profes- 
sional to attend to it. 

“Now, when I heard what he had to say, I put on 
the strictly pious, and says I, ‘ That’s a pretty bad 
thing you’re askin’ me to do, sir— to carry away a 
little gal from its lovin’ mother, and, more ’an that, 
to take it from a school where it’s gettin’ all the bene- 
fits of eddication.’ ‘ Eddication ! ’ says he. ‘ That’s all 
stuff. What eddication the gal gets at a school like 
that isn’t worth a row of pins, and when they go away 
they don’t know nothin’ useful, nor even anything 
tiptop ornamental. All they’ve learned is the pianer 
and higher mathematics. As for anything useful, 
they’re nowhere. There isn’t one of ’em could 
bound New Jersey or tell you when Washington 
crossed the Delaware.’ ‘That may be, sir,’ says I, 
‘but them higher branches comes useful. If Wash- 
ington really did cross the Delaware, your little gal 
could ask somebody when it was, but she couldn’t ask 
’em how the pianer was played, nor what the whole 
multiplication-table came to, added up. Them things 
she’d have to learn how to do for herself. I give you 
my word, sir, I couldn’t take a little gal from a school, 
where she was gettin’ a Number One eddication, sil- 
ver forks and towels extry.’ The gent looked pretty 
glum, for he was to sail the next day, and if I didn’t 
do the job for him, he didn’t know who would, and he 
said that he was sorry to see that I was goin’ back on 
him after the recommend I’d had, and I said that I 
188 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


wouldn’t go back on him if it wasn’t for my conscience. 
I was ready to do any common piece of business, but 
this stealin’ away little gals from lovin’ mothers was a 
leetle too much for me. ‘Well,’ says he, 6 there ain’t 
no time to be lost, and how much will satisfy your 
conscience?’ When I said a hundred dollars, we 
struck the bargain. 

“Well, we cut and dried that business pretty 
straight. I took a cab and went out to the school, 
and the gent he got the key of a house that was to 
let, about three miles from the school, and he was to 
stay there and look at that empty house until I 
brought him the gal, when he was to pay me and 
take her away. I’d like to have had more time, so 
that I could go out and see how the land laid, but 
there wasn’t no more time, and I had to do the best I 
could. The gent told me they all went a- walkin’ 
every afternoon, and that, if I laid low, that would be 
the best time to get her, and I must jest fetch her 
along, no matter who hollered. 

“I didn’t know exactly how I was goin’ to manage 
it, but I took along with me a big bag that was made 
for the conveyance of an extinct millionaire, but 
which had never been used, owin’ to beforehand 
arrangements which had been made with the party’s 
family. 

“I left the cab behind a bit of woods, not far from 
the school, and then I laid low, and pretty soon I seed 
’em all cornin’ out, in a double line, with the teacher 
behind ’em, for a walk. I had a description of the 
little gal as was wanted, and as they come nearer I 
made her out easy. She was the only real light-haired 
one in the lot. I hid behind some bushes in the side 


189 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


of the road, and when they come up, and the light- 
haired little gal was jest opposite to me, I jumped out 
of the bushes and made a dash at her. Whoop ! what 
a row there was in one second ! Such a screamin’ 
and screechin’ of gals, such a pilin’ on top each other, 
and the teacher on top the whole of ’em, bangin’ with 
her umbrella. They pulled at the gal and they pulled 
at me, and they yelled and they howled, and I never 
was in such a row, and hope I never shall be again. 
And I grabbed that gal by her frock, and I tumbled 
some over one way and some another, and I got the 
umbrella over my head, but I didn’t mind it, and I 
clapped that bag over the little gal, and I jerked up 
her feet and let her slip into it, and then I took her 
up like a bag of meal, and put across the field, with 
the whole kit and boodle after me. But I guess most 
of ’em must have tumbled down in hysterics, judgin’ 
from the screechin’, and I got up to the cab, and away 
we went. Well, when we got to the house where I 
was to meet the gent, he began straight off to blow at 
me. ‘What do you mean,’ he yelled, ‘bringin’ my 
daughter in a bag?’ ‘It’s the only way to do it, 
sir,’ says I. ‘They can’t holler and they can’t kick, 
and people passin’ by don’t know what you’ve got,’ 
and, so sayin’, I untied the strings, put the little gal on 
her feet, and pulled off the bag, and then I’d be 
hanged if I ever saw a man so ragin’ mad as he was. 
‘ What do I want with that gal ? ’ he cried. ‘ That’s not 
my daughter. That gal’s hair is as black as a coal, 
and she’s a Jew, besides.’ As soon as I sot my eyes on 
the little varmint, it come over me that I got the 
thing crooked, and in the scrimmage I let go of the 
right gal and grabbed another. 

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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“I don’t see how a man could help makin’ mistakes 
with that school-teacher’s umbrella whangin’ away at 
his knowledge-box, but I wasn’t goin’ to let on. ‘She 
ain’t no Jew, nuther,’ says I, ‘and she’s your daughter, 
too. You needn’t try to play no tricks on me. Pay 
me my money $ and take her away as quick as you can, — 
that’s my advice,— or, before you know it, you’ll be 
nabbed.’ ‘ Pay ye ! ’ he yelled. ‘ Do you think I’d pay 
you anything for that little Jew?’ ‘She’s just as 
much a Christian as you are,’ says I. ‘Ain’t you a 
Christian, little gal? and isn’t this gentleman your 
father? and ain’t you surprised that he wants to give 
you back to be put in the bag?’ I said this hopin’ 
she’d have sense enough to say he was her father so’s 
to get rid of me. 

“The wretched gal had been clean dumfounded 
when she was took out of the bag, and hadn’t done 
nothin’, so far, but blubber and cry, and try to get 
away, which she couldn’t, because I held her frock. 
But now she ups and screams he wasn’t her father, 
and she’d never seen him before. And then he storms 
and swears, and tells me to take her back where I 
got her. And I tell him I’ll see him hanged first, and 
what I want is my money. She screams, and he swears 
he’ll not pay me a cent, and I squares off and says 
that I’ll thrash him out of his skin. And then he calls 
in his coachman, and they both make at me, and I 
backs out the door to get my cabby to stand by me, 
and I found that he’d cut out, havin’ most likely got 
frightened, afraid of bein’ mixed up in trouble. Then 
I seed on the highroad, some half a mile away, some 
men cornin’ gallopin’, and the gent he looked out and 
seed ’em, too, and then says he to me, ‘You’ll jest take 
191 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


that little Jew gal back where you got her from. She’s 
no use to me. I’m goinV And at that I hollered for 
my money, and made a grab at him, but the coach- 
man he tripped me over backward, and before I could 
git up again, they was both off, with the horses on a 
run. 

“I was so mad I couldn’t speak, but there wasn’t no 
time for foolin’, and I hadn’t made up my mind which 
door I should cut out of, when the fellows on horse- 
back went ridin’ past as hard as they could go. They 
must have seed the carriage drivin’ away, and thought 
for sure it had the gal in it, and they was after it, 
liekety-split. 

“ When they was clean gone, I looked round for the 
little gal, but couldn’t see her. But all a-sudden she 
came out of the fireplace, where she’d been hidin’. 
She’d got over her cryin’, and over her scare, too, 
judgin’ from her looks. ‘I’m glad he’s gone,’ says 
she, ‘and I’m mighty glad, too, that Mr. Haskins and 
them other men didn’t see me.’ ‘Who’s they?’ says 
I. ‘They’s neighbors,’ says she. ‘If they knew I was 
here, they’d took me back.’ ‘Well, you little minx,’ 
says I, ‘isn’t that what you want? ’ 

“ ‘ Ho,’ says she. ‘ I didn’t want to go with that man, 
for I don’t know him, and I hate him. But I don’t 
want to go back to that school. I hate it worse than 
anything in the world. You haven’t no idea what 
a horrid place it is. They work you to death, and 
don’t give you half enough to eat. My constitution 
won’t stand it. I’ve told pop that, and he thinks so, 
too. But marm she don’t believe in it, and my stayin’ 
there is all her doin’. I’ve been wantin’ to get away 
for ever so long, but I didn’t want to be took off in a 
192 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


bag. But now that I’m out of that horrid hole, I don’t 
want to go back, and if you’ll take me home to pop, I 
know he won’t let me go back, and he’ll pay you real 
handsome, besides.’ ‘ Who’s your pop ! ’ says I. 1 He’s 
Mr. Groppeltacker, of Groppeltacker & Mintz, corset 
findings, seven hundred and something or other’— I 
forget the number now- ‘ Broadway. Oh, pop does a 
lot of business, I tell you, and he’s got lots of money. 
He sends corset findings to South America, and Paris, 
and Chicago, and Madagascar, and the uttermost parts 
of the earth. I’ve heard him say that often, and you 
needn’t be afraid of his not bein’ able to pay you. A 
lot more than that man would have paid you for his 
little gal, if you’d catched the right one. So, if you 
take me to pop, and get me there safe and sound, it 
will be an awful good spec for you.’ 

“Now, I begins to think to myself that perhaps 
there was somethin’ in what that little Jew gal was 
sayin’, and that I might make somethin’ out of the 
gal, after all. I didn’t count on gettin’ a big pile out 
of old Groppeltacker,— it wasn’t likely he was that 
kind of a man,— but whatever I did get would be 
clean profit, and I might as well try it on. He 
couldn’t make no charge ag’in’ me for bringin’ him his 
daughter, if she asked me to do it. So says I to her, 
‘Now, if I take you home to your pop, will you 
promise, on your word and honor, that you won’t say 
nothin’ about my carryin’ you off in a bag, and say 
you seed me walkin’ along the road, and liked my 
looks, and told me you was sufferin’, and asked me 
to take you home to your kind parents, where you 
might be took proper care of, and that I said I 
wasn’t goin’ that way, but I’d do it out of pure Chris- 
193 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


tian charity, and nothin’ more nor less, and here you 
was ? And then, of course, you can tell him he ought 
to do the handsome thing by me.’ ‘I’ll do that,’ says 
she, ‘and I’ll tell how you talked to me awful kind for 
more than an hour, tryin’ to keep me to stay at the 
school, and it wasn’t till I got down on my knees and 
weeped that you agreed to take me to my kind father.’ 
‘All right,’ says I, ‘I might as well take you along. 
But we’ll have to go back by the railroad and foot it, 
at least two miles, to the station, and I don’t know 
about walkin’ across the country with a little gal 
dressed as fine as you are. I might get myself sus- 
picioned.’ ‘ That’s so,’ says she. ‘ W e might meet some- 
body that’d know me.’ And then she wriggled up her 
little forehead and began to think. I never did see 
such a little gal as sharp as that* one was. Needles was 
nothin’ to her. In about a minute she says, ‘Where’s 
that bag of yourn? ’ ‘Here it is,’ says I. 

“She took it, and looked at it up and down, with her 
head cocked on one side. ‘If I’d somethin’ to cut that 
bag with,’ says she, ‘ I could fix myself up so that no- 
body’d know me— don’t care who it was.’ ‘ I don’t want 
that bag cut,’ says I. ‘ It’s an extry good bag. It was 
made for a particular purpose, and cost money.’ ‘ Pop 
will pay expenses,’ says she. ‘How much did it cost? ’ 
‘It was four dollars cash,’ said I. ‘They cheated you 
like everything,’ says she. ‘You could get a bag like 
that any day for a dollar and seventy-five cents. Will 
you let it go at that?’ ‘All right,’ says I, for I was 
tickled to see how sharp that little Jew gal was, and, 
ten to one, I’d throwed away the bag before we got to 
town. So she pulled a little book out of her pocket 
with a pencil stuck in it, and turnin’ over to a blank 
194 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


page, she put down, ‘Bag, one dollar and seventy-five.’ 
Then she borrows my big knife, and holdin’ the top of 
the bag up ag’in’ her belt, she made me stick a pin in 
it about a hand’s breadth from the floor. Then she took 
the knife and cut the bag clean across, me a-holdin 7 
one side of it. Then she took the top end of that bag 
and slipped it on her, over her head and shoulders, 
and tied the drawin’ -strings in it round her waist, and 
it hung around her just like a skirt, nearly touchin’ 
the ground. Then she split open the rest of the bag, 
and made a kind of shawl out of it, puttin’ it into 
shape with a lot o’ pins, and pinnin’ it on herself real 
clever. She had lots of pins in her belt, and she told 
me that she never passed a pin in that school without 
pickin’ it up, and that she had four hundred and fifty- 
nine of ’em now in her room, which she was mighty 
sorry to leave behind, and that these she had now was 
this day’s pickin’ up. 

“When she got done workin’ at herself you couldn’t 
see not a ribbon nor a hem of her fine clothes. It was 
all black skirt and shawl, and she’d put up her sleeve, 
so that when her arm stuck out, it was bare. Then 
she took all the ribbons and flowers off her hat, and 
crumpled it up, and when she tied it on, what a guy 
she was ! ‘ 1ST ow,’ says she, ‘ I can go barefoot.’ ‘ Which 
you won’t,’ says I, ‘for you’ll get your feet all cut. But 
you can muddy your shoes,’ which she did, I pumpin’ 
on ’em, so that the dust in the back yard would stick. 
Then we starts off across the country, and, upon my 
word, I was pretty nigh ashamed to be seen walkin’ 
with such a little scarecrow. When I bought the 
tickets at the station, she asked me how much they 
was, and put it down in her book. When we got into 
195 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


the cars, the people all looked hard at her, and I 
reckon they thought some kind of a home had been 
burnt down, and this was one of the orphans that 
was saved. But they didn’t say nothin’, and she fixed 
herself as comfortable as you please. And before long 
a boy came through the car with fruit in a basket, and 
then says she to me, ‘I want two apples.’ The boy 
had gone past us, but I got up and followed him, and 
bought her two apples. ‘How much did you give for 
’em?’ says she, when I come back. ‘They was two 
for five cents,’ says I. ‘Well,’ says she, ‘they do stick 
you dreadful. Two for three cents is all pop or I 
pays for apples like them,’ and she took out her little 
book and put down, ‘Apples, three cents.’ ‘Very 
well, miss,’ says I, ‘but if you want any more refresh- 
ments, you buy ’em yourself.’ ‘I think I’d better,’ 
says she, and she went to work eatin’ them two apples. 
She hadn’t more than got through with ’em when the 
boy came around ag’in. ‘I want a banana,’ says she. 

‘ Lend me five cents.’ Which I did, and she put down, 
‘Cash, five cents.’ Then the boy come up, and says 
she, ‘How much are your bananas?’ ‘Five cents,’ 
says he. ‘ For two ? ’ says she. ‘ N o,’ says he, ‘ for one.’ 

‘ What do you take me for ? ’ says she. ‘ I’ve bought 
bananas before. I’ll give you three cents for that 
one’— pointin’ to the biggest in the lot. ‘I can’t do 
that,’ says the boy. ‘ The price is five cents.’ ‘ I’d like 
a banana,’ says she, ‘but I don’t pay more’n three 
cents. Take it or leave it.’ And, with that, the boy went 
on. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘you’ve gouged yourself out of a 
banana.’ ‘Not a bit of it,’ says she. ‘He’ll be back.’ 
And in two minutes he was back, and said she might 
have it for three cents. ‘Have you got two coppers? ’ 
196 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


says she. ‘Let me see ’em.’ He said he had, and 
showed ’em to her, and she took ’em and the banana, 
and then give him five cents, and then she didn’t give 
the change to me, but put it in her pocket. ‘Now,’ 
says she, ‘if you’d buy things that way, you’d be rich, 
in time.’ 

“When we got to the city we took the elevated and 
went up-town to Forty-eighth Street, and then walked 
over to her father’s house. It was a big one, on one 
of the cross-streets. When we got there, she told me 
to wait a minute, and lookin’ around to see that nobody 
was cornin’, she slipped off the skirt and the cape she had 
made, and rolled ’em up in a bundle. ‘ It don’t matter 
about my hat and shoes,’ says she, ‘but they wouldn’t 
know me in such duds.’ Then, handin’ me the bundle, 
she says, ‘ For twenty-five cents you can get that bag 
mended just as good as new, so you can take it, and it 
will save us a dollar and a half.’ ‘No, you don’t,’ 
says I, for I’d had enough of her stinginess. ‘I don’t 
touch that bag ag’in,’ and I made up my mind that 
minute to charge the old man five dollars’ worth. 
When the front door was opened, the servant-gal 
looked as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, but my 
young woman was as cool as you please, and she had 
me showed into a room off the hall, and then she went 
up-stairs. 

“I sat a- waitin’ a long time, which gave me a good 
chance to look around at things. The room was real 
handsome, and I took a peep at the window-fastenin’s 
and the lay of the doors, thinkin’ the knowledge might 
come in handy some time. Right in front of me, on a 
table, was a little yellow mouse, and it struck me, as I 
looked at it, that it must be gold. I listened if any- 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


body was coming and then I picked it up to see if it 
really was. I thought I heard the door-bell ring jest 
then, and shut it np in my hand quick. But nobody 
went to the door. And then I looked at the little 
mouse, and if it wasn’t pure gold, it was the best imi- 
tation ever I seen, so I slipped it quietly in my pocket, 
to look at it ag’in when I had time. 

“ Pretty soon old Groppeltacker come in, shut the 
door, and sot down. 4 So you brought my daughter 
back,’ says he. ‘Yes,’ says I. ‘And you expect to be 
paid for it,’ says he. ‘Yes,’ says I, ‘I do.’ ‘How 
much do you ask for your services'?’ says he. Now, 
this was a sort of a staggerer, for I hadn’t made up 
my mind how much I was goin’ to ask. But there 
wasn’t time for no more thinkin’ about it, and so says 
I, plump, ‘A hundred dollars, and there was some ex- 
penses besides.’ ‘Well, well,’ says he, ‘that seems like 
a good deal, just for bringin’ a little gal from school. 
It couldn’t have took you more’n a couple of hours.’ 

‘ I don’t charge for time,’ says I. ‘ It’s for the risks and 
the science of the thing. There’s mighty few men in 
this town could have brought your daughter home as 
neat as I did.’ ‘Well, well,’ says he, rubbin’ his hands, 
‘I expect I’ll have to pay for the whole term of the 
school, whether she’s there or not, and the business 
will come heavy on me. Don’t you think sixty dol- 
lars would pay you 1 ?’ Now, I know when you deal 
with this sort of a man, there’s always a good deal of 
difference -splittin’, and so, says I, ‘No, it won’t. I 
might take ninety dollars, but that’s the very lowest 
peg.’ ‘The very lowest 1 ?’ says he, gettin’ up and 
walkin’. about a little. And then I thought I heard the 
door-bell ring again, and I was dreadful afraid some- 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


body would come and call off the old man before he 
finished the bargain. ‘Well/ says I, ‘we’ll call it 
eighty-five and expeases, and there I’ll stop.’ 

“Groppeltacker now he sot down ag’in and looked 
hard at me. ‘I didn’t ask yon to bring my daughter 
back/ says he, speakin’ gruff, and very different from 
the way he spoke before, ‘and, what’s more, I didn 7 t 
want her back, and, what’s more yet, I’m not goin’ to 
pay you a red cent.’ ‘Now, look-a-here/ says I, 
mighty sharp, ‘none o’ that, old man. Fork over the 
money, or I’ll lay you out stiff as a poker, and help 
myself. I’m not a fellow to be fooled with, and there’s 
nobody in this house can stop me.’ Old Groppel- 
tacker he didn’t turn a hair, but jest sot there, and 
says he, ‘ Before you blow any more, suppose you take 
my little gold mouse out of your pocket and hand it 
to me.’ I must say I was took back at this, but I 
spoke back, as bold as brass, and said I never seed 
his gold mouse. ‘Oh, ho !’ says he, ‘what you didn’t 
see was the electric button under the table-cover which 
rung a bell when the mouse was picked up. That’s 
what I call my mouse-trap.’ 

“At this I jest b’iled over. ‘Now/ says I, ‘jest you 
hand out every cent you’ve got, and your watch, too. 
Not another word.’ And I jumped up and clapped 
my hand on my pistol in my hip pocket, and jest at 
that minute there was a click, and the nippers was on 
me, and there was a big policeman with his hand on 
my shoulder. I couldn’t speak, I was so b’ilin’ and 
so dumfounded, both at once. Old Groppeltacker he 
jest leaned back and he laughed. ‘You came in/ he 
said to the cop, ‘jest the second I rung, and as soft as 
a cat. And the fust thing I want you to do is to 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


take that gold mouse out of his pocket, and HI be on 
hand whenever you let me know I’m wanted.’ The 
cop he took the gold mouse out of my pocket, and 
says he, f I know this fellow, and, if I’m not mistook, 
they’ll be more charges than yourn made ag’in’ him.’ 
There wasn’t no chance to show fight, so I didn’t do 
it, but I says to old Groppeltacker, ‘ There’s my ex- 
penses— you’ve got to pay them, anyway.’ ‘ All right,’ 
says he. ( Jest you send in your bill, marked correct by 
my daughter, and I’ll settle it,’ and he laughed ag’in, 
and the cop he took me off. Well, ladies and gents, 
that little piece of business, together with some other 
old scores, took me to Sing Sing for three years, and 
it tain’t six months since I got out, so you can see for 
yourselves what hard times a fellow in my line of 
business sometimes has.” 

“Well,” said Aunt Martha, “I don’t approve of the 
Groppeltacker sort of people, but if there were more 
of that kind I believe there would be fewer of your 
kind. That story shows you in such a bad light I be- 
lieve it’s true.” 

“Every word of it,” said the man. “I wish it 
wasn’t.” 

And now I spoke. “Since you claim to be a truth- 
telling being,” I said to the stout burglar, “suppose you 
tell me why you never attempted before to break into 
my house. Every considerable dwelling in this neigh- 
borhood has been entered, and I have no doubt you 
are the men who committed all the burglaries.” 

“No, sir,” said he, “not men. I am the man who 
did ’em all, but these two friends of mine was never 
with me before in a bit of business like this. ’Tain’t 
in their line. I have had pals with me, but they was 
200 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

professionals. These ain’t cracksmen, they don’t know 
nothin’ about it. But this one is handy at tools, and 
that’s the reason I brung him along, but, you see, he 
kicked, and was goin’ to give me away, and this young 
gentleman—” 

“Never mind about that young gentleman,” I said. 
“I have a certain curiosity to know why my house 
was not entered, when the others were.” 

“Well,” said he, “I don’t mind tellin’ you how that 
was. It was on account of your baby. We don’t like 
to crack a house where there’s a pretty small baby, 
that’s liable to wake up and howl any minute, and 
rouse up the rest of the family. There’s no workin’ 
in a house with comfort when there’s such a young one 
about. I’ll tell you what it is, all your burglar-alarms 
and your dogs ain’t worth nothin’ alongside of a baby 
for guardin’ a house. If a cracksman ain’t careful, 
the alarms will go off, and if he don’t know how to 
manage dogs, the dogs will bark. But, by George, sir, 
there ain’t no providin’ ag’in’ a baby. He’ll howl 
any time, and nobody can tell when. So I waited till 
your baby was a little more settled in its ways and 
slept sound, and then we come along, and here we 
are.” 

This statement very much surprised me, and did 
not elate me. Without saying so to any one, I had 
flattered myself that the burglars had heard of my 
precautions, and of my excellent stock of firearms, and 
perhaps had got a notion that I would be an intrepid 
man to deal with, and it was somewhat humiliating to 
find that it was our baby the burglars were afraid of, 
and not myself. My wife was amazed. 

“Can it be possible,” she said, “that these people 
201 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


know so much about our baby, and that George Wil- 
liam has been protecting this house ? ” 

“It makes my flesh creep,” said Aunt Martha. “Do 
you know everything about all of us ? ” 

“Wish I did, ma’am,” said the stout burglar. “Wish 
I 7 d known about that beastly liquor.” 

“Well, we’ve had enough of this,” said I, rising, 
“and, my dear, you and Aunt Martha must be ready 
to go to bed, and David and I will keep guard over 
these fellows until morning.” 

At this instant the youngest burglar spoke. His 
face wore a very anxious expression. 

“May I ask, sir,” he said, “what you intend to do 
with me in the morning ? ” 

“I have already said,” I answered, “that I shall 
then hand over all of you to the officers of justice of 
this county.” 

“But, sir,” said the young man, “you will surely 
except me. I am not at all concerned in this matter, 
and it would be of the greatest possible injury to me 
to be mixed up in it, or to be mentioned in public 
reports as an associate of a criminal. I’m not ac- 
quainted with the gentleman at the other end of the 
bench, but I have every reason to believe, from what 
he said to me, that he intended to notify you if this 
James Barlow proceeded to any open act. For myself, 
I beg you will allow me to state who and what I am, 
and to tell you by what a strange concatenation of 
circumstances I happen to find myself in my present 
position— one which, I assure you, causes me the 
greatest embarrassment and anxiety.” 

“We’ve had enough story-telling for one night,” 
202 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


said I, “and you had better reserve your statement 
for the magistrate.” 

Here Aunt Martha put in her voice. 

“That is not fair,” she said. “Two of them have been 
allowed to speak, and this one has just as much right 
to be heard as the others. What do you say, Cor- 
nelia'?” 

I hoped that my wife would put herself on my side, 
and would say that we had had enough of this sort of 
thing. But female curiosity is an unknown quantity, 
and she unhesitatingly replied that she would like to 
hear the young man’s story. I sat down in despair. 
It was useless to endeavor to withstand this yearn- 
ing for personal information— one of the curses, I 
may say, of our present civilization. The young man 
gave no time for change of opinion, but immediately 
began. His voice was rich and rather low, and his 
manner exceedingly pleasing and gentle. 

“I wish to state, in the first place,” said he, “that I 
am a reporter for the press. In the exercise of my 
vocation I have frequently found myself in peculiar 
and unpleasant positions, but never before have I 
been in a situation so embarrassing, so humiliating, as 
this. In the course of my studies and experiences, I 
have found that in literature and journalism, as well 
as in art, one can make a true picture only of what 
one has seen. Imagination is all very well, often 
grand and beautiful, but imaginative authors show 
us their inner selves and not our outer world. There 
is to-day a demand for the real, and it is a demand 
which will be satisfied with nothing but the truth. I 
have determined, as far as in me lies, to endeavor to 
203 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


supply this demand, and I have devoted myself to the 
study of realism. 

“ With this end in view, I have made it a rule never 
to describe anything I have not personally seen and 
examined. If we would thoroughly understand and 
appreciate our fellow-beings, we must know what they 
do and how they do it ; otherwise we cannot give them 
credit for their virtues, or judge them properly for 
their faults. If I could prevent crime I would anni- 
hilate it, and when it ceased to exist, the necessity for 
describing it would also cease. But it does exist. It 
is a powerful element in the life of the human race. 
Being known and acknowledged everywhere, it 
should be understood. Therefore, it should be de- 
scribed. The grand reality of which we are a part 
can never be truly comprehended until we compre- 
hend all its parts. But I will not philosophize. I 
have devoted myself to realism, and, in order to be a 
conscientious student, I study it in all its branches. I 
am frequently called upon to write accounts of burg- 
lars and burglaries, and, in order thoroughly to under- 
stand these people and their method of action, I 
determined, as soon as the opportunity should offer 
itself, to accompany a burglarious expedition. My 
sole object was the acquisition of knowledge of the 
subject— knowledge which to me would be valuable 
and, I may say, essential. I engaged this man, James 
Barlow, to take me with him the first time he should 
have on hand an affair of this kind, and thus it is that 
you find me here to-night in this company. As I 
came here for the purpose of earnest and thorough 
investigation, I will frankly admit that I would not 
have interfered with his processes, but, at the same 
204 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


time, I would have seen that no material injuries 
should result to any members of this family.” 

“That was very kind of you,” I said, at which my 
wife looked at me somewhat reproachfully. 

“If he really intended it,” she remarked, “and I 
do not see why that was not the case, it was kind in 
him.” 

“As for me,” said Aunt Martha, very sympatheti- 
cally, “I think that the study of realism may be car- 
ried a great deal too far. I do not think there is 
the slightest necessity for people to know anything 
about burglars. If people keep talking and reading 
about diseases they will get them, and if they keep 
talking and reading about crimes they will find that 
iniquity is catching, the same as some other things. 
Besides, this realistic description gets to be very tire- 
some. If you really want to be a writer, young man, 
why don’t you try your haud on some original com- 
position? Then you might write something which 
would be interesting.” 

“Ah, madam,” said the young man, casting his eyes 
on the floor, “it would be far beyond my power to 
write anything more wonderful than what I have 
known and seen ! If I may tell you some of the 
things which have happened to me, you will under- 
stand why I have become convinced that in this world 
of realities imagination must always take a second 
place.” 

“Of course we want to hear your story,” said Aunt 
Martha. “That is what we are here for.” 

“If I was unbound,” said the young man, looking at 
me, “I could speak more freely.” 

“No doubt of it,” said I, “but perhaps you might 
205 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


run away before you finished your story. I wouldn’t 
have that happen for the world.” 

“Don’t make fun of him,” said Aunt Martha. “I 
was going to ask you to cut him loose, but, after what 
you say, I think it would perhaps be just as well to 
keep them all tied until the narratives are com- 
pleted.” 

With a sigh of resignation, the young man began his 
story : 

“I am American born, but my father, who was a 
civil engineer and of high rank in his profession, was 
obliged, when I was quite a small boy, to go to Aus- 
tria, where he had made extensive contracts for the 
building of railroads. In that country I spent the 
greater part of my boyhood and youth. There I 
was educated in the best schools, my father sparing 
no money to have me taught everything a gentle- 
man should know. My mother died when I was a 
mere infant, and as my father’s vocation made it 
necessary for him to travel a great deal, my life was 
often a lonely one. For society I depended entirely 
upon my fellow-scholars, my tutors and masters. It 
was my father’s intention, however, that when I had 
finished my studies I should go to one of the great 
capitals, there to mix with the world. 

“But when this period arrived I was in no haste to 
avail myself of the advantages he offered me. My 
tastes were studious, my disposition contemplative, 
and I was a lover of rural life. 

“My father had leased an old castle in Carinthia, 
not far from the mountains, and here he kept his 
books and charts, and here he came for recreation 
and study whenever his arduous duties gave him a 
206 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


little breathing-spell. For several months I had lived 
at this castle, happy when my father was with me and 
happy when I was alone. I expected soon to go to 
Vienna, where my father would introduce me to some 
of his influential friends. But, day by day, I postponed 
the journey. 

“ Walking, one morning, a few miles from the castle, 
I saw, at the edge of a piece of woodland, a female 
figure seated beneath a tree. Approaching nearer, I 
perceived that she was young, and that she was sketch- 
ing. I was surprised, for I knew that in this part of 
the world young women— at least, those of the upper 
classes, to which the costume and tastes of this one 
showed her to belong— were not allowed to wander 
about the country by themselves. But, although I 
stood still and watched the young lady for some time, 
no companion appeared upon the scene. 

“The path I had intended to take led past the 
piece of woodland, and I saw no reason why I should 
diverge from my proposed course. I, accordingly, pro- 
ceeded, and, when I reached the young lady, I bowed 
and raised my hat. I think that for some time she 
had perceived my approach, and she looked up at me 
with a face that was half merry, half inquisitive, 
and perfectly charming. I cannot describe the effect 
which her expression had upon me. I had never seen 
her before, but her look was not such a one as she 
would bestow upon a stranger. I had the most power- 
ful desire to stop and speak to her, but, having no right 
to do so, I should have passed on, had she not said to 
me, in the best of English , 1 Good morning, sir.’ Then 
I stopped, you may be sure. I was so accustomed to 
speak to those I met in either French or German 
207 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


that I involuntarily said to her, ‘ Bon jour, mademoi- 
selle. 7 ‘ You need not speak French/ she said. ‘I am 
neither English nor American, but I speak English. 
Are yon the gentleman who lives in Wulrick Castle 1 ? 
If so, we are neighbors, and I wish you would tell 
me why you live there all the time alone. 7 

“At this, I sat down by her. ‘I am that person, 7 I 
said, and handed her my card. ‘ But before I say any 
more, please tell me who you are. 7 ‘ I am Marie Dorf- 
ler. My father’s house is on the other side of this 
piece of woodland. You cannot see it from here. This 
is part of his estate. And now tell me why you live 
all by yourself in that old ruin. 7 ‘ It is not altogether 
a ruin, 7 1 answered. ‘Part of it is in very good condi- 
tion. 7 And then I proceeded to give her an account 
of my method of life, and my reasons for it. ‘It is 
interesting, 7 she said, ‘but it is very odd. 7 ‘I do not 
think it half so odd, 7 I answered, ‘as that you should 
be here by yourself. 7 ‘That is truly an out-of-the-way 
sort of thing, 7 she said, ‘but just now I am doing 
out-of-the-way things. If I do not do them now, I 
shall never have the opportunity again. In two weeks 
I shall be married, and then I shall go to Prague, and 
everything will be by line and rule. No more de- 
lightful rambles by myself. No more sitting quietly 
in the woods, watching the little birds and hares. No 
more making a sketch just where I please, no matter 
whether the ground be damp or not. 7 ‘I wonder that 
you are allowed to do these things now, 7 I said. ‘I 
am not allowed, 7 she answered. ‘I do them in hours 
when I am supposed to be painting flower-pieces in 
an upper room. 7 ‘But when you’re married, 7 I said, 
‘your husband will be your companion in such 
208 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


rambles.’ ‘ Hardly/ she said, shrugging her shoulders. 
‘He will be forty-seven on the thirteenth of next 
month, which I believe is July, and he is a great deal 
more grizzled than my father, who is past fifty. He 
is very particular about all sorts of things, as I sup- 
pose he has to be, as he is a colonel of infantry. 
Nobody could possibly disapprove of my present per- 
formances more than he would.’ I could not help 
ejaculating, ‘Why, then, do you marry him?’ She 
smiled at my earnestness. ‘Oh, that is all arranged,’ 
she said, ‘and I have nothing to do with it. I have 
known for more than a year that I’m to marry Colonel 
Kaldhein, but I cannot say that I have given myself 
much concern about it until recently. It now occurs 
to me that, if I expect to amuse myself in the way I 
best like, I must lose no time doing so.’ I looked at 
the girl with earnest interest. ‘ It appears to me,’ said 
I, ‘ that your ways of amusing yourself are very much 
like mine.’ ‘That is true,’ she said, looking up with 
animation, ‘they are. Is it not delightful to be free, 
to go where you like and do what you please, without 
any one to advise or interfere with you?’ ‘It is de- 
lightful,’ said I, and for half an hour we sat and 
talked about these delights and kindred subjects. She 
was much interested in our castle, and urged me to 
make a sketch of it, so that she might know what it 
now looked like. She had seen it when a little girl, 
but never since, and had been afraid to wander 
very far in that direction by herself. I told her it 
would be far better for her to see the castle with her 
own eyes, and that I could conduct her to an eminence, 
not half a mile away, where she could have an excel- 
lent view of it. This plan greatly pleased her, but, 
209 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


looking at her watch, she said that it would be too 
late for her to go that morning, but if I happened to 
come that way the next day, and if she should be there 
to finish her sketch, she would be delighted to have 
me show her the eminence.” 

“I think,” interrupted Aunt Martha, “that she was 
a very imprudent young woman.” 

“That may be,” he replied, “but you must remem- 
ber, madam, that, up to this time, the young lady had 
been subjected to the most conventional trammels, 
and that her young nature had just burst out into 
temporary freedom and true life. It was the caged 
bird’s flight into the bright summer air.” 

“Just the kind of birds,” said Aunt Martha, “that 
shouldn’t be allowed to fly— at least, until they are 
used to it. But you can go on with your story.” 

“Well,” said the young man, “the next day we met, 
and I took her to the piece of high ground I had men- 
tioned, and she sketched the castle. After that we 
met again and again, nearly every day. This sort of 
story tells itself. I became madly in love with her, 
and I am sure she liked me very well. At all events, I 
was a companion of her own age and tastes, and such 
a one, she assured me, she had never known before, 
and probably would never know again.” 

“There was some excuse for her,” said Aunt Martha. 
“But still, she had no right to act in that way, espe- 
cially as she was so soon to be married.” 

“I do not think she reasoned much upon the sub- 
ject,” said the young man, “and I am sure I did 
not. We made no plans. Every day we thought only 
of what we were doing or saying, and not at all of 
what we had done or would do. We were very happy. 

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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“One morning I was sitting by Marie in the very 
place where I had first met her, when we heard some 
one rapidly approaching. Looking up, I saw a tall 
man in military uniform. ‘ Heavens !’ cried Marie, 
‘it is Colonel Kaldhein.’ 

“The situation was one of which an expectant bride- 
groom would not be likely to ask many questions. 
Marie was seated on a low stone, with her drawing- 
block in her lap. She was finishing the sketch on 
which she was engaged when I first saw her, and I 
was kneeling close to her, looking over her work and 
making various suggestions, and I think my counte- 
nance must have indicated that I found it very pleasant 
to make suggestions in that way to such a pretty girl. 
Our heads were very close together. Sometimes we 
looked at the paper, sometimes we looked at each 
other. But the instant I caught sight of the colo- 
nel, the situation changed. I rose to my feet, and 
Marie began to pick up the drawing materials which 
were lying about her. 

“Colonel Kaldhein came forward almost at a run. 
His eyes blazed through his gold spectacles, and his 
close-cut reddish beard seemed to be singeing with the 
fires of rage. I had but an instant for observation, 
for he came directly up to me, and, with a tremendous 
objurgation, he struck me full in the face, with such 
force that the blow stretched me upon the ground. 

“I was almost stunned, but I heard a scream from 
Marie, a storm of angry words from Kaldhein, and I 
felt sure he was about to inflict further injury. He 
was a much stronger man than I was, and probably 
was armed. With a sudden instinct of self-preserva- 
tion, I rolled down a little declivity on the edge of 
211 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


which I had fallen, and, staggering to my feet, plunged 
into a thicket and fled. Even had I been in the full 
possession of my senses, I knew that, under the cir- 
cumstances, I would have been of no benefit to Marie 
had I remained upon the scene. The last thing I 
heard was a shout from Kaldhein, in which he de- 
clared that he would kill me yet. For some days I 
did not go out of my castle. My face was bruised, 
my soul was dejected. I knew there was no possible 
chance that I should meet Marie, and that there was 
a chance that I might meet the angry colonel. An 
altercation at this time would be very annoying and 
painful to the lady, no matter what the result, and I 
considered it my duty to do everything that was pos- 
sible to avoid a meeting with Kaldhein. Therefore, as 
I have said, I shut myself up within the walls of old 
Wulrick, and gave strict orders to my servants to 
admit no one. 

“It was at this time that the strangest events of my 
life occurred. Sitting in an upper room, gazing out 
of the window over the fields through which I had 
walked so happily, but two days before, to meet the 
lady whom I had begun to think of as my Marie, I 
felt the head of a dog laid gently in my lap. With- 
out turning my head, I caressed the animal, and 
stroked the long hair on his neck. 

“My hound Ajax was a dear companion to me in 
this old castle, although I never took him in my 
walks, as he was apt to get into mischief. When I 
turned my head to look at him he was gone, but, 
strange to say, the hand which had been stroking the 
dog felt as if it were still resting on his neck. 

“Quickly drawing my hand toward me, it struck 
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STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


the head of the dog, and, moving it backward and 
forward, I felt the ears and nose of the animal, and 
then became conscious that its head was still resting 
upon my knee. 

“I started back. Had I been stricken with blind- 
ness I But no. Turning my head, I could plainly see 
everything in the room. The scene from the window 
was as distinct as it ever had been. I sprang to my 
feet, and, as I stood wondering what this strange thing 
could mean, the dog brushed up against me and licked 
my hand. Then the idea suddenly flashed into my 
mind that, by some occult influence, Ajax had been 
rendered invisible. 

“I dashed down stairs, and, although I could nei- 
ther see nor hear it, I felt the dog was following 
me. Rushing into the open air, I saw one of my 
men. 1 Where is Ajax? ’ I cried. ‘A very strange 
thing has happened, sir/ he said, ‘and I should 
have come to tell you of it, had I not been unwilling 
to disturb your studies. About two hours ago Ajax 
was lying here in the courtyard. Suddenly he sprang 
to his feet with a savage growl. His hair stood 
straight up on his back, his tail was stiff, and his lips 
were drawn back, showing his great teeth. I turned 
to see what had enraged him, but there was absolutely 
nothing, sir— nothing in the world. And never did I 
see Ajax so angry. But this lasted only for an instant. 
Ajax suddenly backed, his tail dropped between his 
legs, his head hung down, and, with a dreadful howl, he 
turned, and, leaping the wall of the courtyard, he dis- 
appeared. I have since been watching for his .return. 
The gate is open, and as soon as he enters I shall chain 
him, for I fear the dog is mad.’ 

213 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“I did not dare to utter the thoughts that were in 
my mind, but, bidding the man inform me the mo- 
ment Ajax returned, I reentered the castle, and sat 
down in the great hall. 

“The dog was beside me. His head again lay upon 
my knees. With a feeling of awe, yet, strangely 
enough, without fear, I carefully passed my hand over 
the animal’s head. I felt his ears, his nose, his jaws, 
and his neck. They were not the head, the ears, the 
nose, the jaws, or the neck of Ajax ! 

“I had heard of animals, and even of human beings, 
who were totally invisible, but who still retained 
their form, their palpability, and all the powers and 
functions of life. I had heard of houses haunted by 
invisible animals. I had read De Kay’s story of the 
maiden Manmat’ha, whose coming her lover perceived 
by the parting of the tall grain in the field of ripe 
wheat through which she passed, but whose form, 
although it might be folded in his arms, was yet as 
invisible to his sight as the summer air. I did not 
doubt for a moment that the animal that had come to 
me was one of those strange beings. I lifted his head. 
It was heavy. I took hold of a paw, which he readily 
gave me. He had every attribute of a real dog, except 
that he could not be seen.” 

“I call that perfectly horrible,” said Aunt Martha, 
with a sort of gasp. 

“Perhaps,” said the young man, “you would prefer 
that I should not continue.” 

At this, both my wife and Aunt Martha declared 
that he must go on, and even I did not object to hear- 
ing the rest of the story. 

“Well,” said the young man, “Ajax never came 
214 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

back. It is generally believed that dogs can see 
things which are invisible to us, and I am afraid that 
my faithful hound was frightened, perhaps to death, 
when he found that the animal whose entrance into 
the courtyard he had perceived was a supernatural 
thing. 

“But if I needed a canine companion, I had one, for, 
by day or night, this invisible dog never left me. 
When I slept, he lay on the floor by the side of my 
bed. If I put down my hand, I could always feel his 
head, and often he would stand up and press his nose 
against me, as if to assure me that he was there. This 
strange companionship continued for several days, 
and I became really attached to the invisible animal. 
His constant companionship seemed to indicate that 
he had come to guard me, and that he was deter- 
mined to do it thoroughly. I felt so much confidence 
in his protection, although I knew not how it could 
be exerted, that, one morning, I decided to take a 
walk, and, with my hand on the head of the dog to 
make sure he was with me, I strolled into the open 
country. 

“I had walked about a mile, and was approaching 
a group of large trees, when suddenly, from behind 
one of them, the tall figure of a man appeared. In an 
instant I knew it to be Colonel Kaldhein. His was a 
face which could not easily be forgotten. Without a 
word, he raised a pistol which he held in his hand, and 
fired at me. The ball whistled over my head. 

“I stopped short, startled, and frightened almost 
out of my senses. I was unarmed, and had no place 
of refuge. It was plain that the man was determined 
to kill me. 


215 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“Quickly re-cocking his pistol, Kaldhein raised it 
again. I involuntarily shrank back, expecting death. 
But, before he could fire, his arm suddenly dropped, 
and the pistol was discharged into the ground. Then 
began a strange scene. The man shouted, kicked, and 
beat up and down with his arms. His pistol fell from 
his hand, he sprang from side to side, he turned 
around, he struggled and yelled. 

“I stood astounded. For an instant I supposed the 
man had been overtaken by some sort of fit, but in a 
flash the truth came to me : Kaldhein was being at- 
tacked by my protector, the invisible dog. 

“Horrified by this conviction, my first impulse was 
to save the man, and, without knowing what I was 
going to do, I stepped quickly toward him, but, stum- 
bling over something I did not see, I fell sprawling. 
Before I could regain my feet, I saw Kaldhein fall 
backward to the ground, where a scene took place, so 
terrible that I shall not attempt to describe it. When, 
with trembling steps, I approached, the man was dead. 
The invisible dog had almost torn him to pieces. 

“I could do nothing. I did not remain upon the 
spot another minute, but hurried home to the castle. 
As I rapidly walked on, I felt the dog beside me, and, 
putting my hand upon him, I felt that he was panting 
terribly. For three days I did not leave the house. 

“About the end of this time, I was sitting in an 
upper room of the castle, reflecting upon the recent 
dreadful event, when the thought struck me that the 
invisible dog, who was by my side, apparently asleep, 
must be of an unusually powerful build to overcome 
so easily such a strong man as Kaldhein. I felt a 
desire to know how large the creature really was, and, 
216 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


as I had never touched any portion of his body back 
of his shoulders, I now passed my hand along his back. 
I was amazed at his length, and when I had moved 
my hand at least seven feet from his head it still rested 
upon his body. And then the form of that body be- 
gan to change in a manner which terrified me, but, 
impelled by a horrible but irresistible curiosity, my 
hand moved on. 

“But I no longer touched the body of a dog. The 
form beneath my hand was cylindrical, apparently 
about a foot in diameter. As my hand moved on, the 
diameter diminished, and the skin of the creature 
became cold and clammy. I was feeling the body of 
a snake ! 

“I now had reached the open door of the room. 
The body of the snake extended through it. It went 
on to the top of the stairs. These I began to descend, 
my heart beating fast with terror, my face blanched, 
I am sure, but my hand still moving along the body of 
the awful creature. I had studied zoology, giving a 
good deal of attention to reptiles, and I knew that, 
judged by the ordinary ratio of diminution of the 
bodies of serpents, this one must extend a long dis- 
tance down the stairs. 

“But I had not descended more than a dozen steps 
before I felt a shiver beneath my hand, and then a 
jerk, and the next moment the snake’s body was vio- 
lently drawn upward. I withdrew my hand and 
started to one side, and then— how, I know not— I 
became aware that the dog part of the creature was 
coming down-stairs. 

“I now became possessed by a wild terror. The 
creature must be furious that I had discovered his 


217 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


real form. He had always been careful to keep his 
head toward me. I should be torn to pieces, as Kald- 
heiu had been ! Down the stairs I dashed, across the 
courtyard, and toward a lofty old tower, which stood 
in one corner of the castle. I ran up the winding 
stairs of this, with a speed which belongs only to a 
frantically terrified creature, until I reached the 
fourth story, where I dashed through an open door- 
way, slammed behind me an iron door, which shut 
with a spring, and fell gasping upon the floor. 

“In less than a minute I was aware, by a slight rat- 
tling of the great-hinges, that something was pushing 
against the door. But I did not move. I knew that I 
was safe. The room in which I lay was a prison dun- 
geon, and in it, in the olden times, it is said, men had 
been left to perish. Escape or communication with 
the outer world was impossible. A little light and 
air came through a narrow slit in the wall, and the 
door could not be forced. 

“I knew that the invisible dog, or whatever it was, 
could not get in unless the door was open. I had 
frequently noticed that when he entered a room it 
was through an open door, and I sometimes knew of 
his approach by seeing an unlatched door open with- 
out visible cause. So, feeling secure for the present, I 
lay and gasped and panted. 

“After the lapse of a few hours, however, I was 
seized by a new terror. How was I ever to get out of 
this horrible dungeon? Even if I made up my mind 
to face the dog, trusting that he had recovered from 
his momentary anger, I had no means of opening the 
door, and as to making any one hear me, I knew that 
was impossible. 


218 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

“I had no hope that my servants would seek me 
here. I had not seen any one when I ran into the 
tower. And if they should discover that I was in this 
dungeon, how could they open the door? The key 
was in my father’s possession. He had taken it to 
Vienna, to exhibit it as a curiosity to some of his me- 
chanical friends. He believed that there was not such 
another key in the world. I was in the habit of 
making long absences from the castle, and, if I should 
be looked for I believed that the tower would be the 
last place visited. 

“ Night came on. The little light in the room van- 
ished, and, hungry, thirsty, and almost hopeless, I fell 
asleep. 

“During the night there was a most dreadful storm. 
The thunder roared, the lightning flashed through 
the slit in the wall, and the wind blew with such 
terrific violence that the tower shook and trembled. 
After a time, I heard a tremendous crash, as of falling 
walls, and then another, and now I felt the wind 
blowing into my prison. 

“There was no further sleep for me. Trembling 
with a fearful apprehension of what might happen 
next, I cowered against the wall until the day broke, 
and then I perceived that in front of me was a great 
hole in the wall of the dungeon, which extended for 
more than a yard above the floor. I sat and gazed at 
this until the light became stronger, and then I cau- 
tiously approached the aperture and looked out. 
Nearly the whole of the castle lay in ruins before me ! 

“It was easy to see what had happened. The storm 
had demolished the crumbling walls of the old build- 
ing, and the tower, itself frail and tottering, stood 
219 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


alone, high above the prostrate ruins. If the winds 
should again arise, it must fall, and at any moment its 
shaken foundations might give way beneath it. 

“ Through the hole in the wall, which had been 
caused by the tearing away of some of the connection 
between the tower and main building, I could look 
down on the ground below, covered with masses of 
jagged stone. But there was no way in which I could 
get down. I could not descend that perpendicular 
wall. If I leaped out, death would be certain. 

“As I crouched at the opening, I felt the head of 
a dog pushed against me. A spasm of terror ran 
through me, but the moment the creature began to 
lick my hands I knew I had nothing to fear from 
him. Instantly my courage returned. I felt that he 
was my protector. I patted his head, and he renewed 
his caresses. 

“Passing my hand over him, I found he was holding 
himself in his present position by means of his fore 
legs, which were stretched out upon the floor. What 
a dog this must be, who could climb a wall ! But I 
gave no time to conjectures of this sort. How could 
I avail myself of his assistance ? In what manner could 
he enable me to escape from that dangerous tower? 

“Suddenly a thought came to me. I remembered 
the snake part of him. Judging from the ratio of 
diminution, which I have mentioned before, that part, 
if hanging down, must reach nearly, if not quite, to 
the ground. By taking advantage of this means of 
descent, I might be saved, but the feat would require 
dexterity and an immense amount of faith. This ser- 
pent-like portion of the animal, like the rest of him, was 
invisible ; how could I know how long it really was ? 

220 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“But there was no time for consideration. The wind 
had again arisen, and was blowing with fury. The 
tower shook beneath me. At any moment it might 
fall. If I should again escape from death, through 
the assistance of my invisible friend, I must avail 
myself of that assistance instantly. 

“I stopped and felt the animal. He still hung by 
part of his body and by his fore legs to the floor of the 
dungeon, and by reaching out I could feel that the 
rest of him extended downward. I, therefore, seized 
his body in my arms, threw myself out of the aper- 
ture, and began to slide down. 

“In a very short time I found I had reached 
the snake portion of the creature, and, throwing my 
arms and legs around it, I endeavored, with all my 
strength, to prevent a too rapid descent. But, in spite 
of all my efforts, my downward progress was faster 
than I would have wished it to be. But there was no 
stopping. I must slip down. 

“In these moments of rapid descent my mind was 
filled with wild anxiety concerning the serpent-like 
form to which I was clinging. I remembered, in a 
flash, that there were snakes whose caudal extremity 
dwindled away suddenly into a point. This one 
might do so, and at any instant I might come to the 
end of the tail and drop upon the jagged stones below. 

“Calculation after calculation of the ratio of dimi- 
nution flashed through my mind during that awful 
descent. My whole soul was centred upon one point 2 
When would this support end? When would I drop f 

“Fortunately, I was on the leeward side of the tower, 
and I was not swung about by the wind. Steadily I 
descended, and steadily the diameter of the form I 
221 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


grasped diminished. Soon I could grasp it in my 
hand. Then, with a terrified glance, I looked below. I 
was still at a sickening distance from the ground. I 
shut my eyes. I slipped down, down, down. The 
tail became like a thick rope, which I encircled with 
each hand. It became thinner and thinner. It grew 
so small that I could not hold it. But, as I felt it slip 
from my fingers, my feet rested on a pile of stones. 

“ Bewildered and almost exhausted, I stumbled over 
the ruins, gained the unencumbered ground, and ran 
as far from the tower as I could, sinking down, at last, 
against the trunk of a tree in a neighboring field. 
Scarcely had I reached this spot when the fury of the 
wind-storm appeared to redouble, and before the wild 
and shrieking blast the tower bent and then fell with 
a crash upon the other ruins. 

“The first thought that came into my mind, when I 
beheld the dreadful spectacle, concerned the creature 
who had twice saved my life. Had he escaped, or 
was he crushed beneath that mass of stone ? I felt on 
either side to discover if he were near me, but he 
was not. Had he given his life for mine ? 

“Had I been stronger, I would have searched for 
him. I would have clambered among the ruins to see 
if I could discover his mangled form. If I could but 
reach his faithful head, I would stroke and caress it, 
living or dead. But excitement, fatigue, and want of 
food had made me so weak that I could do nothing 
but sit upon the ground with my back against the 
tree. 

“While thus resting, I perceived that the whole of 
the castle had not been demolished by the storm. 
Some of the rooms in which we had lived, having 
222 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


been built at a later date than the rest of the great 
edifice, bad resisted the power of the wind and were 
still standing. 

“From the direction of the uninjured portion of the 
castle I now saw approaching a light-colored object, 
which seemed to be floating in the air about a foot 
from the ground. As it came nearer I saw that it was 
a basket, and I immediately understood the situation. 
My faithful friend was alive, and was bringing me 
some refreshments. 

“On came the basket, rising and falling with the 
bounds of the dog. It was truly an odd spectacle, 
but a very welcome one. In a few moments the bas- 
ket was deposited at my side, and I was caressing the 
head of the faithful dog. In the basket I found a 
bottle of wine and some bread and meat, which the 
good creature had doubtless discovered in the kitchen 
of the castle, and it was not long before I was myself 
again. The storm had now almost passed away, and 
I arose and went to my own rooms, my friend and 
protector still keeping close to my side. 

“On the morning of the next day, as I sat wonder- 
ing what had happened to my servants, and whether 
my father had been apprised of the disaster to the 
castle, I felt something pulling at the skirt of my 
coat. I put out my hand, and found it was the in- 
visible dog. Imagining that he wished me to follow 
him, I arose, and, obeying the impulse given me by his 
gentle strain upon my coat, I followed him out of the 
door, across the courtyard, and into the open country. 
We went on for a considerable distance. A gentle 
puli at my coat admonished me when I turned from 
the direction in which it was desired that I should go. 

223 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“ After a walk of about half an hour, I approached a 
great oak-tree with low, wide -spreading branches. 
Some one was sitting beneath it. Imagining the 
truth, I rushed forward. It was Marie ! 

“It was needless for us to say anything to explain 
the state of our feelings toward each other. That tale 
was told by the delight with which we met. When I 
asked her how she came to be there, she told me that, 
about an hour before, while sitting in front of her 
father’s mansion, she had felt something gently pulling 
at her skirts, and, although at first frightened, she 
was at length impelled to obey the impulse, and, with- 
out knowing whether it was the wind or some super- 
natural force which had led her here, she had come. 

“We had a great deal to say to each other. She 
told me that she had been longing to send me a mes- 
sage to warn me that Colonel Kaldhein would cer- 
tainly kill me the next time he saw me, but she had 
had no means of sending me such a message, for the 
colonel had had her actions closely watched. 

“When the news came of Kaldhein’s death, she at 
first feared that I had killed him, and would, therefore, 
be obliged to fly the country. But when it was known 
that he had been almost torn to pieces by wild beasts, 
she, like every one else, was utterly amazed, and could 
not understand the matter at all. None but the most 
ferocious creatures could have inflicted the injuries of 
which the man had died, and where those creatures 
came from no one knew. Some people thought that 
a pack of bloodhounds might have broken loose from 
some of the estates of the surrounding country, and, 
in the course of their wild journeyings, might have 
met with the colonel, and fallen upon him. Others 
224 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


surmised that a bear had come down from the moun- 
tains, But the fact was that nobody knew anything 
about it. 

“I did not attempt to acquaint Marie with the 
truth. At that moment the invisible dog was lying at 
my side, and I feared that, if I mentioned his existence 
to Marie, she might fly in terror. To me there was 
only one important phase of the affair, and that was 
that Marie was now free— that she might be mine. 

“ Before we parted we were affianced lovers, pledged 
to marry as soon as possible. I wrote to my father, 
asking for his permission to wed the lady. But, in his 
reply, he utterly forbade any such marriage. Marie 
also discovered that her parents would not permit a 
union with a foreigner, and would, indeed, oppose her 
marriage with any one at this time. 

“ However, as usual, love triumphed, and, after sur- 
mounting many difficulties, we were married and fled 
to America. Since that time, I have been obliged to 
support myself and my wife, for my father will give 
me no assistance. He had proposed a very different 
career for me, and was extremely angry when he found 
his plans had been completely destroyed. But we are 
hopeful. We work hard, and hope that we may yet be 
able to support ourselves comfortably, without aid 
from any one. We are young, we are strong. We 
trust each other, and have a firm faith in our success. 

“I had only one regret in leaving Europe, and that 
was that my faithful friend, the noble and devoted 
invisible dog, was obliged to remain on the other side 
of the Atlantic. Why this was so I do not know, but 
perhaps it was for the best. I never told my wife of 
his existence, and if she had accidentally discovered 
225 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


it, I know not what might have been the effect upon 
her nervous system. 

“The dog accompanied me through Austria, Switzer- 
land, and France to Havre, from which port we sailed. 
I took leave of him on the gang-plank. He licked 
my hands, and I caressed ; and stroked him. People 
might have thought that my actions denoted insanity, 
but every one was so greatly occupied, in those last 
moments before departure, that perhaps I was not 
noticed. Just as I left him and hastened on board, a 
sailor fell overboard from the gang-plank. He was 
quickly rescued, but could not imagine why he had 
fallen. I believe, however, that he was tripped up 
by the snake part of my friend as he convulsively 
rushed away.” 

The young man ceased, and gazed pensively upon 
the floor. 

“Well, well, well ! ” exclaimed Aunt Martha, “if 
those are the sort of experiences you had, I don’t 
wonder realism is wonderful enough for you. The 
invisible creature was very good to you, I am sure, but 
I am glad it did not come with you to America.” 

David, who had been waiting for an opportunity to 
speak, now interrupted further comments by stating 
that it was daylight, and if I thought well of it, he 
would open the window-shutters, so that we might see 
any one going toward the town. A milkman, he said, 
passed the house very early every morning. When 
the shutters were opened, we were all amazed that the 
night should have passed so quickly. 

The tall burglar and the young man now began to 
exhibit a good deal of anxiety. 

“I should like very much to know,” said the former, 
226 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“ what you intend to do in regard to ns. It cannot be 
that yon think of placing that young gentleman and 
myself in the hands of the law. Of course, this man,” 
pointing to the stout burglar, “ cannot expect anything 
but a just punishment of his crimes, but, after what 
we have told you, you must certainly be convinced 
that our connection with the affair is entirely blame- 
less, and should be considered as a piece of very bad 
luck.” 

“That,” said I, “is a matter which will receive all 
the consideration it needs.” 

At this moment David announced the milkman. 
Counselling my man to keep strict guard over the 
prisoners, I went out to the road, stopped the milk- 
man, and gave him a message which I was certain 
would insure the prompt arrival at my house of suffi- 
cient force to take safe charge of the burglars. Ex- 
cited with the importance of the commission, he 
whipped up his horse and dashed away. 

When I returned to the house, I besought my wife 
and Aunt Martha to go to bed, that they might yet 
get some hours of sleep. But both refused. They did 
not feel in the least like sleep, and there was a sub- 
ject on which they wished to consult with me in the 
dining-room. 

“Now,” said Aunt Martha, when the door had been 
closed, “these men have freely told us their stories. 
Whether they are entirely true, or not, must, of course, 
be a matter of opinion. But they have laid their cases 
before us, and we should not place them all in the 
hands of the officers of the law without giving them 
due consideration, and arriving at a decision which 
shall be satisfactory to ourselves.” 

227 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

“Let us take them in order,” said I. “What do 
you think of the tall man’s case? ” 

“I think he is a thief and manufacturer of false- 
hoods,” said my wife, promptly. 

“I am afraid,” said Aunt Martha, “that he is not 
altogether innocent. But there is one thing greatly in 
his favor : When he told of the feelings which over- 
came him when he saw that little child sleeping 
peacefully in its bed, in the house which he had unin- 
tentionally robbed, I felt there must be good points 
in that man’s nature. What do you think of him ? ” 

“I think he is the worst of the lot,” Ianswered, “and as 
there are now two votes against him, he must go to the 
lock-up. And now, what of the stout fellow ? ” I asked. 

“Oh, he is a burglar by his own confession,” said 
my wife. “There can be no doubt of that.” 

“I am afraid you are right,” said Aunt Martha. 

“I know she is,” said I, “and James Barlow, or 
whatever his name may be, shall be delivered to the 
constable.” 

“Of course, there can be no difference of opinion in 
regard to the young man,” said Aunt Martha, quickly. 
“Both the others admitted that he had nothing to do 
with this affair except as a journalist, and although I 
do not think he ought to get his realistic ideas in that 
way, I would consider it positively wicked to send him 
into court in company with those other men. Con- 
sider the position in which he would be placed before 
the world. Consider his young wife.” 

“I cannot say,” said my wife, “that I am inclined 
to believe all parts of his story.” 

“I suppose,” said I, laughing, “that you particularly 
refer to the invisible dog-snake.” 

228 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


“Fm not so sure about all that,” she answered. 
“ Since the labors of the psychic researchers began, 
we have heard of a great many strange things. But it 
is evident that he is a young man of education and 
culture, and, in all probability, a journalist or literary 
man. I do not think he should be sent to the lock-up 
with common criminals.” 

“There ! ” cried Aunt Martha. “Two in his favor. 
He must be released. It’s a poor rule that does not 
work both ways.” 

I stood for a few moments, undecided. If left to 
myself, I would have sent the trio to the county town, 
where, if any one of them could prove his innocence, 
he could do so before the constitutional authorities. 
But having submitted the matter to my wife and aunt, 
I could not well override their decision. As for what 
the young man said, I gave it no weight whatever, 
for, of course, he would say the best he could for him- 
self. But the testimony of the others had weight. 
When they both declared that he was not a burglar, 
but merely a journalist, engaged in what he supposed 
to be his duty, it would seem to be a cruel thing to 
stamp him as a criminal by putting him in charge of 
the constables. 

But my indecision soon came to an end, for Aunt 
Martha declared that no time should be lost in setting 
the young man free, for, should the people in town 
arrive and see him sitting bound with the others, it 
would ruin his character forever. My wife agreed. 

“Whatever there may be of truth in his story,” she 
said, “one of two things is certain : either he has had 
most wonderful experiences, out of which he may con- 
struct realistic novels which will give him fortune and 
229 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


reputation, or lie has a startling imagination, which, 
if used in the production of works in the romantic 
school, will be of the same advantage to his future. 
Looking upon it even in this light, and without any 
reference to his family and the possible effects on his 
own moral nature, we shall assume a great responsi- 
bility in deliberately subjecting such a person to 
criminal prosecution and perhaps conviction.” 

This was enough. “Well,” said I, “we will release 
the young fellow, and send the two other rascals to 
jail.” 

“That was not well expressed,” said my wife, “but 
we will not criticise words at present.” 

We returned to the library, and I announced my 
decision. When he heard it, the stout burglar ex- 
hibited no emotion. His expression indicated that, 
having been caught, he expected to be sent to jail, 
and that was the end of it. Perhaps he had been 
through this experience so often that he had become 
used to it. 

The tall man, however, took the announcement 
in a very different way. His face grew dark and 
his eyes glittered. “You are making a great 
mistake,” he said to me, “a very great mistake, and 
you will have to bear the consequences.” 

“Very good,” said I. “I will remember that remark 
when your trial comes on.” 

The behavior of the young man was unexceptional. 
He looked upon us with a face full of happy grati- 
tude, and, as he thanked us for the kind favor and the 
justice which we had shown him, his eyes seemed dim 
with tears. Aunt Martha was much affected. 

“And his poor mother is not living,” she whispered 
230 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 

to me. “ A wife can do a great deal, but a mother can 
do more. If I had thought of her death sooner, I 
would have spoken more strongly in his favor. And 
now, you should untie him at once and let him go 
home. His wife must be getting terribly anxious.” 

The young man overheard this last remark. 

“You will confer a great favor on me, sir,” he said, 
“if you will let me depart as soon as possible. I feel a 
great repugnance to being seen in company with these 
men, as you may imagine, from my wearing a mask on 
coming here. If I leave immediately, I think I can 
catch the first train from your station.” 

I considered the situation. If I did what I was 
asked, there would be two bound burglars to guard, 
three women and a child to protect, an uncertain 
stranger at liberty, and only David and myself to 
attend to the whole business. “Ho, sir,” said I. “I 
shall not untie you until the officers I sent for are near 
at hand. Then I will release you, and you can leave 
the house by the back way, without being seen by 
them. There are other morning trains, which will 
take you into the city early enough.” 

“I think you are a little hard on him,” remarked 
Aunt Martha. 

But the young man made no complaint. “I will 
trust myself to you, sir,” he said. 

The officers arrived much sooner than I expected. 
There were five of them, including the chief of police, 
and they were accompanied by several volunteer assis- 
tants, among whom was the milkman who had been my 
messenger. This morning his customers might wait 
for their milk, for all business must give way before 
such an important piece of sight-seeing as this. 

231 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


I had barely time to untie the young man and take 
him to the back of the house before the officers and 
their followers had entered the front door. There 
was now a great deal of questioning, a great deal of 
explanation, a great deal of discussion as to whether 
my way of catching burglars was advisable, or not, 
and a good deal of talk about the best method of tak- 
ing the men to town. Some of the officers were in 
favor of releasing the two men, and then deciding in 
what manner they should be taken to town, and if 
this plan had been adopted, I believe that these two 
alert and practical rascals would have taken them- 
selves out of my house without the assistance of the 
officers, or, at least, would have caused a great deal of 
trouble, and perhaps injury, in endeavoring to do so. 

But the chief of police was of my mind, and before 
the men were entirely released from the ropes by 
which I had tied them, they were securely manacled. 

A requisition having been made on David and myself 
to appear as witnesses, the two men were taken from 
the house to the wagons in which the officers and their 
followers had come. My wife and Aunt Martha had 
gone up -stairs before the arrival of the police, and were 
watching the outside proceeding from a window. 

Standing in the hallway, I glanced into the dining- 
room, and was surprised to see the young man still 
standing by a side door. I had thought him gone, 
but perhaps it was wise in him to remain, and not to 
show himself upon the road until the coast was en- 
tirely clear. He did not see me, and was looking 
backward into the kitchen, a cheerful and animated 
expression upon his face. This expression did not 
strike me pleasantly. He had escaped a great danger, 
232 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


it was true, but it was no reason for this rather ob- 
trusive air of exultation. Just then Alice came into 
the dining-room from the kitchen, and the young man 
stepped back, so that she did not notice him. As she 
passed, he threw his arm gently and quietly around her 
neck and kissed her. 

At that very instant, even before the girl had time 
to exclaim, in rushed David from the outer side 
door. 

“I’ve been watching you, you rascal ! ” he shouted. 
“You’re done for now!” And he threw his strong 
arms around the man, pinioning his arms to his side. 

The young fellow gave a great jerk, and began to 
struggle powerfully. His face turned black with 
rage. He swore, he kicked. He made the most fren- 
zied efforts to free himself. But David’s arms were 
strong, his soul was full of jealous fury, and in a mo- 
ment I had come to his assistance. Each of us taking 
the young fellow by an arm, we ran him into the hall- 
way and out of the front door, Alice aiding us greatly 
by putting her hands against the man’s back and 
pushing most forcibly. 

“Here’s another one,” cried David. “I’ll appear 
against him. He’s the worst of the lot.” 

Without knowing what it all meant, the chief 
clapped the nippers on our prisoner, justly believing 
that, if burglars were about to show themselves so un- 
expectedly, the best thing to do was to handcuff them 
as fast as they appeared, and then to ask questions. 
The reasons for not having produced this man before, 
and for producing him now, were not very satisfactory 
to the officer. 

“Have you any more in the cellar! ” he asked. “If 
233 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


so ; I should like to take a look at them before I start 
away.” 

At this moment Aunt Martha made her appearance 
at the front door. 

“What are you going to do with that young man? ” 
she asked sharply. “What right have you to put 
irons upon him ? ” 

“Aunt Martha,” said I, stepping back to her, “what 
do you think he has done ? ” 

“I don’t know,” said she. “How should I know? 
All I know is that we agreed to set him free.” 

I addressed her solemnly : “David and I believe 
him to be utterly depraved. He availed himself of 
the first moments of his liberation to kiss Alice.” 

Aunt Martha looked at me with wide-open eyes, 
and then her brows contracted. 

“He did, did he? ” said she. “And that is the kind 
of a man he is ! Very good. Let him go to jail with 
the others. I don’t believe one word about his young 
wife. If kissing respectable young women is the way 
he studies realism, the quicker he goes to jail, the bet- 
ter.” And, with that, she walked into the house. 

When the men had been placed in the two vehicles 
in which the police had come, the chief and I made 
an examination of the premises, and we found that 
the house had been entered by a kitchen window, in 
exactly the manner which the tall burglar had de- 
scribed. Outside of this window, close to the wall, 
we found a leather bag, containing what the chief 
declared to be an excellent assortment of burglars’ 
tools. The officers and their prisoners now drove 
away, and we were left to a long morning nap— if we 
were so fortunate as to get it— and a late breakfast. 

234 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


In the course of the trial of the three men who had 
entered my house, some interesting points in regard 
to them were brought out. Several detectives and 
policemen from New York were present, and their 
testimony proved that my three burglars were men 
of eminence in their profession, and that which most 
puzzled the metropolitan detectives was to discover 
why these men should have been willing to devote 
their high talents to the comparatively insignificant 
business of breaking into a suburban dwelling. 

The tall man occupied a position of peculiar emi- 
nence in criminal circles. He was what might be 
called a criminal manager. He would take contracts 
for the successful execution of certain crimes,— bank 
robberies, for instance,— and, while seldom taking part 
in the actual work of a burglary or similar operation, 
he would plan all the details of the affair, and select 
and direct his agents with great skill and judgment. 
He had never been arrested before, and the detectives 
were delighted, believing that they would now have an 
opportunity of tracing to him a series of very impor- 
tant criminal operations that had taken place in New 
Y ork and in some other large cities. He was known 
as Lewis Mandit, and this was believed to be his real 
name. 

The stout man was a first-class professional burglar, 
and nothing more, and was in the employ of Mandit. 
The young man was a decidedly uncommon person- 
age. He was of a good family, had been educated 
at one of our principal colleges, had travelled, and 
was in every way qualified to make a figure in society. 
He had been a newspaper man, and a writer for 
leading periodicals, and had shown considerable lit- 
235 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


erary ability. But a life of bonest industry did not 
suit his tastes, and he had adopted knavery as a reg- 
ular profession. 

This man, who was known among his present asso- 
ciates as Sparky, still showed himself occasionally in 
newspaper offices, and was generally supposed to be 
a correspondent for a Western journal, but his real 
business position was that of Mandit’s head man. 

Sparky was an expert in many branches of crime. 
He was an excellent forger, a skilful lock -picker, an 
ingenious planner of shady projects, and had given a 
great deal of earnest study to the subject of the loop- 
holes of the law. He had a high reputation in crimi- 
nal circles for his ability in getting his fellow-rascals 
out of jail. There was reason to believe that, in the 
past year, no less than nine men, some condemned to 
terms of imprisonment, and some held for trial, had 
escaped by means of assistance given them by Sparky. 

His methods of giving help to jail-birds were va- 
rious. Sometimes liberty was conferred through the 
agency of saws and ropes, at other times through that 
of a habeas corpus and an incontestable alibi. His 
means were adapted to the circumstances of the case, 
and it was believed that if Sparky could be induced to 
take up the case of a captured rogue, the man had a 
better chance of finding himself free than the law had 
of keeping him behind bars, especially if his case were 
treated before it had passed into its more chronic 
stages. 

Sparky’s success was greatly due to his extremely 
specious manner, and his power of playing the part 
the occasion demanded. In this particular he was 
even the superior of Mandit, who was an adept in 
236 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


this line. These two men found no difficulty in secur- 
ing the services of proficient burglars, safe-robbers, 
and the like, for, in addition to the high rewards paid 
these men, they were, in a manner, insured against 
permanent imprisonment in case of misfortune. It 
was always arranged that, if any of their enterprises 
came to grief, and if either Mandit or Sparky should 
happen to be arrested, the working miscreants should 
substantiate any story their superiors might choose 
to tell of themselves, and, if necessary, take upon 
themselves the whole responsibility of the crime. In 
this case, their speedy release was to be looked upon 
as assured. 

A great deal of evidence in regard to the character 
and practices of these two men came from the stout 
burglar, commonly known as Barney Fitch. When 
he found that nothing was to be expected from his 
two astute employers, and that they were in as bad a 
place as himself, he promptly turned state’s evidence, 
and told all that he knew about them. 

It was through the testimony of this man that the 
motive for the attempted robbery of my house was 
found out. It had no connection whatever with the 
other burglaries of our neighborhood,— those, probably, 
having been committed by low-class thieves, who had 
not broken into my house simply because my doors 
and windows had been so well secured,— nor had our 
boy, George William, any share whatever in the pro- 
tection of the household. 

The burglary was undertaken solely for the purpose 
of getting possession of some important law papers, 
which were to be used in a case in which I was 
concerned, and soon to be tried. If these papers 
237 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


could be secured by the opposite party, the side on 
which I was engaged would have no case at all, and 
a suit involving a great deal of property must drop. 
With this end in view, the unscrupulous defendants 
in the case had employed Mandit to procure the 
papers, and that astute criminal manager had not only 
arranged all the details of the affair, but had gone 
himself to the scene of action, in order to see that 
there should be no mistake in carrying out the details 
of this most important piece of business. 

The premises had been thoroughly reconnoitred by 
Sparky, who, a few days before the time fixed for the 
burglary, had visited my house in the capacity of an 
agent of a telescopic bookcase, which could be ex- 
tended as new volumes were required, and, therefore, 
need never exhibit empty shelves. The young man had 
been included in the party on account of his familiar- 
ity with legal documents, it being, of course, of para- 
mount importance that the right papers should be 
secured. His ingenuity was also to be used to cover 
up, if possible, all evidence that the house had been 
entered at all, it being desirable to make it appear to 
the court that I had never had these documents in my 
possession, and that they never existed. 

Had it not been for a very natural desire for refresh- 
ment that interfered with their admirably laid plans, 
it is probable that the mechanical skill of Mandit 
would have been equal to the noiseless straightening 
of the bent bolt, and the obliteration of the scratches 
and dents made by the attempts upon other shutters, 
and that Sparky, after relocking all open desks or 
cabinets, and after the exit of the others, would have 
238 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


closed and fastened the kitchen shutters, and would 
then have left the house by means of an open window 
in the upper hall and the roof of a piazza. 

Thus it was that these three men, so eminent in 
their different spheres of earnest endeavor, came to 
visit my comparatively humble abode, and thus it 
was that they not only came to that abode, but to the 
deepest grief. They were “ wanted ” in so many quar 
ters, and on so many charges, that, before they had 
finished serving out their various sentences, their 
ability wickedly to avail themselves of the property 
of others would have suffered greatly from disuse, 
and the period of life left them for the further exer- 
cise of those abilities would be inconveniently limited. 

I was assured by a prominent detective that it had 
been a long time since two such dangerous criminals 
as Mandit and Sparky had fallen into the hands of the 
law. These men, by means of very competent outside 
assistance, made a stout fight for acquittal on some of 
the charges brought against them, but when they 
found that further effort of this kind would be un- 
availing, and that they would be sentenced to long 
terms of imprisonment, they threw off their masks of 
outraged probity, and stood out in their true char- 
acters of violent and brutal ruffians. Barney Fitch, 
the cracksman, was a senior warden compared to 
them. 

It was a long time before my Aunt Martha re- 
covered from her disappointment in regard to the 
youngest burglar. 

“Of course I was mistaken/’ she said. “That sort 
of thing will happen. But I really had good grounds 
239 


STORIES OF THE THREE BURGLARS 


for believing him to be a truthful person, so I am not 
ashamed for having taken him for what he said he 
was. I have now no doubt that before he fell into his 
wicked ways he was a very good writer, and might have 
become a novelist or a magazine author. But his case is 
a very sad proof that the study of realism may be 
carried too far.” And she heaved a sigh. 


240 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 










































































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THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


P O HANCY was the chief of a band of dacoit 
robbers— those outlaws who for years have rav- 
aged portions of British Burmah, killing, stealing, and 
burning, and regarding not whether the sufferers were 
their own people or white-skinned foreigners. Promi- 
nent among these midnight assassins and robbers was 
Po Haney, but he came to his just reward at last, 
being trapped and killed by two native spies, and the 
knife by which his head was severed from his body 
lay on my library table. It had been sent to me by 
a missionary friend, to whom it had been brought as a 
trophy of the superior valor of the loyal and some- 
what civilized natives over that of the outlaws of the 
jungle. It was a rude weapon, with a heavy blade 
nearly nine inches long, enclosed in a wooden sheath, 
and with a beautifully polished handle of bone-like 
wood. On the point of the blade and on its sides 
were great blotches of rust, caused by the blood of Po 
Haney. 

This formidable weapon, with its history, was very 
interesting to me. I could sympathize with the joyful 
satisfaction with which the little band of missionaries 
had looked upon the knife as a blessed sleep-giver, an 
assurance that they need no longer lie awake on ac- 
243 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


count of rumors of the approach of that bloodthirsty 
and unconvertible heathen and his band. 

More than that, it had another interest for me : it 
made me think of the man who had come to his death 
by it. The idea struck me that Po Haney and I were 
as different from each other as two human beings could 
possibly be. To arrange our differences in a tabulated 
statement would be a work of a good deal of time and 
very little value, but there was one dissimilarity be- 
tween us that particularly impressed itself upon me : 
I had heard a good deal of this tiger-like dacoit, crawl- 
ing through the jungles for ten, fifteen, or twenty 
miles, leaping down rocks with foothold as silent and 
certain as that of a cat, and bounding upon his victims 
with the strength and swiftness of an untiring beast 
of prey. 

How different was I— a languid, soft-fleshed, almost 
middle-aged lawyer, tired out by sedentary work by 
night and by day, to whom a walk of half a mile was 
weariness, and a climb to my office on the fifth floor 
of a lofty building, a backache. As a young man I 
had been somewhat athletic, but years of too much 
work of one kind, and too little of another, had made 
activity a memory, and wholesome exercise a discom- 
fort. Po Haney was a specimen of perfect animal life, 
and of the most imperfect life of the mind and soul. 
My body resembled his mind and soul. Of my mind 
and soul I will say nothing, being of a modest disposi- 
tion. 

Po Haney was gone— utterly departed and annihi- 
lated, with the exception of the atoms of dried blood 
which might yet remain in the blotches of rust upon 
this ugly knife-blade. Strangely enough, it was pos- 
244 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


sible that something which had helped to make up that 
fierce dacoit— some portions, minute though they 
might he, of his very self— might lie here before me, 
in my library, by my prayer-book and a recent letter 
from my mother, in a home of high civilization on 
the other side of the world from the Burmese jungle. 

As I sat thinking of these things, I took out my 
pocket-knife, and began to scratch the spots of rust 
upon the blade, and succeeded in detaching a little of 
the fine dust from the iron, oxidized by means of Po 
Haney’s life-currents. There was so little of it that 
I had to moisten the end of my knife-blade in order 
to take it up and carefully look at it. Of course, to 
the eye it was like any other iron-rust, but to my 
mind it was far different. If there really were atoms 
of blood still in it, it was all, or nearly all, that re- 
mained above earth of the famous Po Haney. 

Involuntarily I balanced my penknife on my finger, 
as if to weigh this infinitesimal remnant of savage 
mortality, when suddenly the knife slipped, and, in 
endeavoring to catch it, the point ran into the thumb 
of my left hand, inflicting a slight wound. For a mo- 
ment I was frightened. Here was an example of the 
folly of playing with edged tools, especially those that 
had belonged to savage heathens. This knife of the 
slayer of the dacoit might have been poisoned, and 
here I had wounded myself with the point of my own 
knife, to which adhered the dust I had scraped from 
it. It was horrible to think that in a few hours I 
might perish by the same knife that slew that fero- 
cious murderer ! 

After a time, however, I calmed myself, for I had 
never heard that the Burmese used poisoned weapons, 
245 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


and when several days had passed without my having 
felt any evil effects from the wound, which soon 
healed, I felt perfectly safe. In fact, instead of there 
being any injurious result from the cut (or the not 
inconsiderable nervous shock consequent upon it), I 
found myself in rather better health than usual, and 
one afternoon I walked across the Common, through 
the Public Garden, and four or five blocks beyond, to 
my home, and did not feel the least fatigue. I had 
not had an experience of this kind for two or three 
years. 

During the next few weeks, many of my friends 
remarked that my health was certainly improving, 
and there could be no doubt that they were correct. 
I began to take walks that were moderately long. I 
played billiards, that used to tire me so much that I 
seldom played a whole game. And, what surprised 
everybody, and myself quite as much, I joined an 
athletic club. This numbered among its members a 
dozen or more of my friends, nearly all of whom, at 
one time or another, had pressed me to join the club, 
assuring me that it was the best thing I could do if I 
wished to regain my old strength and activity. But I 
had always refused. The very idea of gymnastic ex- 
ercise was disagreeable to me, and I was annoyed at 
their persistence in advising it. 

Now they were astonished at my change of opinion, 
and some of them were inclined to ridicule me, sug- 
gesting some very easy and mild methods of exercise, 
suitable for a small boy beginner. But they stopped 
that sort of chaff when I raised a vaulting-bar several 
inches higher than the last performer had left it, and 
then went over it without touching, and when, seizing 
246 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


a trapeze bar, I drew up my body and threw myself 
around it with the ease of a circus man, some of them 
remembered I used to do that sort of thing, but that 
I could return to it now, after all these years of desk- 
work, amazed them. 

I kept up my gymnastic exercises nearly every 
day, and as the club was to give a public exhibition 
early in the autumn, I felt inclined to take part in it. 
All my love for athletic sport had returned. But, in 
spite of my undoubted activity, there were a good 
many men in the club who were greatly my superiors 
in athletic feats, and there was no reason to suppose 
I would achieve any especial distinction in the pub- 
lic games. The conviction of this somewhat damp- 
ened my desire to become a contestant on so important 
an occasion, and I sat down, one evening, to consider 
the matter. “In the first place, ” I said to myself, “how 
did I regain all my old strength and activity ? I have 
not altered my method of living, my diet is the same, 
I have had no change of air.” At this moment my 
eye fell on the knife that killed Po Haney, which still 
lay upon my table. “By George ! ” I exclaimed, 
springing to my feet, “could it have been that?” 

My face flushed and my whole form glowed as I 
remembered how I had fancied I had poisoned myself 
by introducing into my veins the stuff I had scraped 
from the Burmese knife. And now, could it be? 
Was it by any means possible that I had accidentally 
inoculated myself with some of the blood of Po Haney, 
and in so doing had introduced into my system some 
of his savage vigor and agility? 

The more I thought of this, the more strongly I 
became convinced that it was so. I am a scientist in 


247 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


an amateur way, and I take a great interest in experi- 
ments such as those performed by Brown -Sequard and 
Dr. Koch. If certain physical attributes of one class 
of living beings could be communicated to another by 
inoculation, or hypodermic injection, why should not 
another physical attribute be transmitted in the same 
way? I could see no reason why this should not be 
so, and, in fact, I believed myself a proof that the 
thing could be done. 

Now, if I possessed some of the high physical quali- 
ties of the defunct Po Haney, why should I not possess 
them to a greater degree ? What he had had in per- 
fection was what I lacked. If I could get what he no 
longer needed, and what, indeed, I would gladly have 
deprived him of, whether I had been able to get it or 
not, why should I not have it? There was really 
nothing to object to in this proposition, and I deter- 
mined to make an experiment. 

Rubbing some glycerine over the blood-spots upon 
the dacoit knife, I scraped vigorously until I accumu- 
lated a little mass of the gummy substance. Then, 
baring my left arm, and excoriating a little spot on it, 
as if I were about to vaccinate myself, I rubbed in the 
compound. “Now,” said I, wrapping a handkerchief 
around my arm, “we shall see what we shall see.” 

The next morning, our waitress, who was just enter- 
ing the breakfast-room, saw what she did see. She 
saw me come in at another door, look at the table, set 
ready for the family breakfast, with a large bouquet, 
a foot and a half high, in the center of the table, run 
a few steps, and then bound entirely over said table, 
bouquet and all, and come down upon the other side 
with an elastic thud, as if I had been made of india- 
248 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


rubber. She screamed, and, although I had not 
touched anything, stood expecting a crash. 

“ Merciful me, sir ! ” she exclaimed, when she found 
nothing was about to happen, “I never did see any- 
body so supple.” 

When my two sisters came down,— with me, they 
made up the family, for my mother was in Europe,— 
I had to tell them about this jump, for I did not want 
the girl to do it. 

“I have noticed, Harry,” said Amelia, “that you 
have changed very much of late. You are as springy 
as a jack-in-the-box, and you used to be so poky and 
stiff. I think you ought not to do that sort of thing 
in the house. Suppose you had swept everything off 
this table, what a lot of damage you would have done ! 
And I have had to have the stair-carpet stretched and 
replaced because you will persist in going up three 
steps at a time, and getting it all out of shape.” 

“I am very glad that Harry is feeling so strong and 
Well,” said Jenny, “and I am going to teach him to 
play tennis.” 

I laughed internally as I thought of a man with my 
nimble power playing a baby game like tennis. 

The inoculation with the blood of Po Haney was 
undoubtedly a success. I could feel strength and 
Vigor bounding through my veins. W ithout hesitation, 
I announced myself as a candidate for athletic honors 
in the approaching games. 

I will not here relate the feats I performed on the 
great field of our club. In contests of hurling, lifting, 
and all that, I took no part. But in running, jumping, 
vaulting, bounding, I excelled all competitors and 
broke several records. Had Po Haney been in my 
249 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


place, he might have done better, but, without the 
influence of Po Haney’s wild blood, no one on the 
grounds could have done as well. This is what I said 
to myself, as the crowd roared out its applause, and 
my friends gathered around me to shake my hand. 

Not only was my whole habit of life changed, but 
the changes went on. I was not content to be able to 
bound like a tiger and run like a deer, but I wanted 
to do these things. Several times, when coming home 
from my office in the evening, I was stopped by police- 
men who wanted to know what I was running away 
from. I had some difficulty in persuading them that 
I ran purely from a love of exercise, and they advised 
against such speed in the public streets. Late at 
night, I used to have grand runs in the Common, but 
this did not suit me very well. There were sometimes 
observers, and the place was too open. I liked better 
the Public Gardens, which afterwards became my 
nightly exercise ground.' 

With a pair of soft tennis-shoes on my feet, it was 
my delight to steal swiftly around masses of shrub- 
bery, dart up avenues, slip before the eyes of aston- 
ished policemen, and vanish into the shade, to bound 
into the branches of some heavily foliaged tree and 
watch the guardian of the peace stalking below me, 
and then, when he had passed, to drop noiselessly 
down, to track him over the whole of Ips beat, with- 
out his suspecting that my soft-falling footsteps fol- 
lowed his. 

I did not pay much attention to my business, as 
had been my custom, and I indulged in exercise and 
long walks, even in the daytime, when I should have 
been at my office. I felt a great desire to hunt— I do 
250 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


not mean to follow the hounds in their courses about 
the Boston suburbs, but to tramp through the wild 
woods and kill things with a rifle. As there was 
little scope for this sort of sport in the coast country 
of Massachusetts, I wanted to take a trip to the lower 
part of Florida, for it was too late in the season to go 
far West. In the forests down there I was sure I 
could still find wild game, and if a wandering Semi- 
nole Indian happened to interfere with me, or a reck- 
less alligator-hunter picked a quarrel with me, I felt 
that I would be very well able to take care of myself. 

My law partners, however, objected very strongly 
to my leaving town in the midst of our busiest season, 
and I was obliged to postpone my contemplated trip. 
One of the members of our firm jocosely remarked 
to me that, so far as business was concerned, I was a 
better man when I was not so well. And my sisters, 
who used to object to walking with me because I was 
so much given to going slowly and stopping often, 
now declined to accompany me because I strode so 
rapidly that it tired them to keep up with me. In 
fact, in the whole of Boston, I did not know any one 
who shared my fancies for what might be called super- 
exercise, and I was obliged to be content with my own 
company in my morning bounces and my evening spins. 

But it must not be supposed that I lost at this time 
my desire for companionship. In truth, a novel desire 
of that sort sprang up within me. A distant relative 
of my mother, who had always been accustomed to 
spend some weeks with us in the autumn, now came to 
make her annual visit. This was a lady of thirty, or 
thereabout, by the name of Susan Mooney. She was 
the kindest, gentlest, quietest, softest woman in the 
251 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


world. Her disposition was so tender that if one 
spoke to her of trouble or pain, the tears would almost 
always come into her eyes. 

My sisters were sorry that Susan made her visit 
this year during the absence of our mother, for, al- 
though they liked her and loved her, they did not find 
her a congenial companion. They were lively girls, 
fond of society, while she was the quietest of the 
quiet, and fond of home. Consequently, they were 
well pleased when they found that I seemed to fancy 
Susan’s company, for that relieved them of the burden. 
But, after a week or two, their feelings changed, and 
they told me they thought I was giving entirely too 
much of my time to Susan. My family had come to 
look upon me as a bachelor who would never think of 
marrying, and it would have surprised them to see 
me paying marked attention to any lady. But when 
my sisters saw me paying attention, so very marked 
indeed, to Susan Mooney, they were not only sur- 
prised, but offended. 

“If you are going to marry anybody,” said Amelia, 
“do take some one who is suitable for you. Mother 
is very fond of Susan, and we like her, but she would 
never do for a wife for you. She is no better than a 
bag of milk.” 

I looked at them and smiled. It was true that I 
had taken Susan to the theatre or to concerts, evening 
after evening, although I had been in the habit of 
declining to go to such places with my sisters, that I 
made her take long walks with me, that I spent hours 
with her when I should have been in my office, and 
that lately she had been known to flush a little when 
I came into the room where she was. 


252 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


“Susan Mooney/’ I said, “is exactly the kind of girl 
—or lady— that I like. She is so gentle, so docile, so 
submissive, that—” 

“Submissive ! ” snapped Jenny. “I should think so. 
She has not the least bit of will of her own. You 
would become a perfect tyrant with a wife like that. 
I believe she would grow to tremble when she heard 
your footstep.” 

“I do not say,” I answered, “that I am going to 
marry Susan, nor that I am going to marry anybody, 
but if I ever do take a wife, I want one who will 
tremble when she hears my footstep.” 

They both laughed. “For a mild-mannered man,” 
cried Amelia, “you talk bigger than any one I ever 
heard. The idea that any one could ever tremble at 
your footstep is ridiculous.” 

I made no answer. It was well that they could not 
analyze the blood that now ran in my veins. To me 
Susan Mooney was attractive to a degree that no other 
woman had been. I would not cease my attentions to 
her, but, perhaps, since my sisters seemed so obser- 
vant, I would be more wary about them. 

I had used to be somewhat of a submissive person 
myself, but I was such no longer. I did not always 
state my determination to do things against the opin- 
ions and wishes of others, but the determination was 
never altered. I grew to like to put myself in op- 
position, especially if the other party did not know 
how I stood. This I flattered myself might be a good 
thing for a lawyer, but it was very different from my 
old methods of thought and action. I also felt occa- 
sional desires to put myself in physical opposition to 
some one. I did not feel quarrelsome, but if I had 
253 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


seen a reasonable opportunity of obtruding my physical 
superiority on a fellow-being, I should have been glad 
to avail myself of it. Civilized society does not offer 
chances of this sort sufficiently often to satisfy Po 
Hancyish cravings. 

One evening, as I was sitting in my library and 
study on the third floor, I heard a slight noise down- 
stairs, as if from the opening of a door. I knew 
the rest of the family had all retired, and I naturally 
thought that a burglar was trying to enter the house. 
The moment this idea came into my mind, my whole 
body thrilled with a warm ecstasy. I slipped off my 
shoes, and stole to the top of the stairs and listened. 
I heard the noise again ! Darting back into my room, 
I buttoned my dark coat tightly around my neck to 
conceal my white collar, and then, seizing the knife 
that killed Po Haney, I silently glided down the stair- 
way. My eyes must have glistened with the expect- 
ant joy of meeting a burglar. What transporting 
delight it would be to steal upon the rascal and slay 
him with one blow ! It is so seldom that one gets an 
opportunity to legitimately slay a rascal, or indeed 
any one. I do not say that I would have decoyed a 
burglar into the house for the purpose of slaying him, 
but if one were really here of his own accord, how 
gladly would I exercise my legal rights ! 

Down the stairs I went, bending low, with eyes 
peering into the dark, with ears stretched to catch 
the slightest sound, and with the knife that killed Po 
Haney half raised in my right hand. I went through 
all the rooms on the first floor. I descended into the 
cellar, feeling my way about in the darkness, and 
stopping at intervals to listen. I even penetrated to 
254 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


the back of the coal-bin, and I remember thinking 
with pride how I stepped so carefully as to scarcely 
disturb the coals that were piled about me. 

Suddenly I heard the same noise that I had noticed 
before. It was above me, and, with a quick and silent 
bound, I was at the top of the cellar stairs. Here I 
found what had made the noise. It was a door at this 
spot which had been left open. I had noticed that it 
was not fastened when I came down, but thought noth- 
ing of it. A ventilating window was near by, and when 
a puff of wind came into this window the door was 
opened a little way, and then slowly swung, back of 
its own inclination. 

When I discovered the facts of the case, I could 
almost have cried. I felt that I had sustained a cruel 
disappointment. Chagrined and depressed, I walked 
slowly into the dining-room, and sat down, debating 
with myself whether, or not, I would care to put on 
my hat and take a long night run. While sitting 
thus, I heard some one coming down the stairs with 
slow and deliberate footsteps. I knew those footsteps. 
They were those of Mary Carpenter, our good old 
housekeeper. Ashamed that she should find me sit- 
ting in the dark, I got up and began to look for 
matches, but before I found them, she entered, carry- 
ing a lighted candle. 

“Mercy on me, Mr. Harry ! ” she exclaimed. “ What 
on earth are you doing here in the dark? I just re- 
membered that I did not fasten the top cellar door, 
and I came down to do it. Are you sick ? ” 

“No,” I answered, “I am hungry, and I came down 
to get some pie. I was just going to strike a light.” 

“Well, well ! ” exclaimed the good Mary, “that is 
255 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


just like you, Mr. Harry. When you were a boy, and 
even a young man, you were always wanting to eat 
pie at night, and there were some that said that you 
would have better health if you had not done so 
much of it. But, for my part, I can’t see any harm in 
eating good, wholesome pie, when a body feels hungry 
for it. I have not heard you say you wanted some 
pie for a long while, and it seems like good old times 
to give you some after everybody else is in bed. Now, 
it is lucky that I made to-day, with my own hands, 
the first pumpkin-pies of the season. I’ll get one and 
cut you a piece. Goodness gracious, Mr. Harry ! 
You didn’t mean to cut one of my pies with that 
horrible knife, did you? If you did, I am truly glad 
I came down in time to stop you. A heathen knife 
in a Christian pie is something I never heard of yet, 
and I hope never to. It would poison it.” 

In a few minutes the good Mary placed before me 
a noble specimen of her pastry-cooking. 

“ There,” said she, “is a pumpkin-pie fit for a king. 
Only kings never get them, and I suppose they would 
call it a pudding in England, if they had it at all. 
It’s a good inch and a half thick, the way you always 
liked them, and I am sure a piece of it will not hurt 
you.” 

She cut a generous segment of the pie, and gave it 
to me on a plate. She was delighted to see with what 
pleasure I ate it, and when I asked for another piece, 
she was surprised, but gave it to me. When I asked 
for a third piece, she demurred a little, but, in spite of 
her really earnest protestations, I helped myself to 
more, and eventually finished the whole pie, which 
was of a size sufficient for an ordinary family. 

256 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


“Well, well!” said Mary, as she took away my 
plate and the empty pie-dish, “this beats anything you 
ever did when you were a boy. I only hope you 
won’t feel badly in the night, but, if you do, come to 
my door and knock. It won’t take me a minute to 
mix some peppermint for you, or give you anything 
else you need.” 

I did not wonder that the good Mary was aston- 
ished at the midnight appetite of a Po Haney. I 
began to fear, however, that I had been imprudent in 
letting this appetite run away with me, and felt very 
glad that there was some one in the house who knew 
what to do for victims of unreasonable voracity. 
However, there was no occasion for her services, for I 
went to bed and slept the sleep of an infant. In the 
morning, when I awoke, fresh and clear-headed, with 
a wholesome appetite for my breakfast, I felt what it 
was to possess the digestion of a dacoit. 

The wonderful physical powers with which I felt 
myself endowed were sources of the greatest satisfac- 
tion to me, but they began to have their drawbacks, 
and, after a time, they caused me great mental uneasi- 
ness. Because I knew myself perfectly able to do 
certain things which I ought not to do, I wished to 
do them. For instance, there was a stout man of 
German-Jewish aspect, who, before my Po Haney 
days, had been in the habit of going home from his 
business about the same time that I did, and fre- 
quently took the street-car in which I was riding. 
This man, if it were possible, always seated himself 
next to me, thinking, I imagined, that as I was rather 
a slender man he would have a better chance of 
crowding me, and getting more than his share of 
257 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


room, in case the car became full. And when this op- 
portunity was afforded him, he always availed himself 
of it to the utmost. I sometimes remonstrated with 
him, and sometimes tried to crowd him a little, but 
neither course was of any service, and it not unfre- 
quently happened that I got up and stood on the 
platform to avoid this unsavory persecutor. 

As I now thought of this man, my blood boiled 
within me. I did not, at this time, ride in street-cars, 
for I felt no need of them, but I felt greatly tempted 
to get into one at the hour I usually left my office, 
in the hope that the stout man would enter and sit 
beside me. If this should happen, and he should dare 
to push or elbow me, I would spring upon him and 
hurl him out of the door of the car, no matter how 
rapidly it might be moving. I ground my teeth in 
savage anticipation of the joy I would take in thus 
avenging myself for all his former insults. But my 
common sense and my familiarity with the common 
law showed me that this would be a very foolish thing 
to do, certain to bring me into trouble, and even ridi- 
cule, which would be worse. My uncivilized instincts 
were so strong that frequently I was obliged, figura- 
tively, to put my hand upon my own shoulder, to pre- 
vent myself from entering a car in which there was a 
chance of encountering the stout German. 

There were other novel and perhaps aboriginal 
cravings which came upon me at this time. One of 
these was an abnormal longing to possess desirable 
objects. For instance, in a jeweller’s window, which 
I frequently passed, there was a handsome brooch 
which attracted my favorable attention. It was com- 
posed of a large stone of the moonstone order, artisti- 
258 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


cally surrounded by brilliants. It struck me that this 
would be a most appropriate ornament for the gentle 
Susan. Several times I stood looking at it, and plan- 
ning how I might get it for her without resort to the 
usual methods of exchange. A strong tap on the win- 
dow-pane, a quick snatch, and then a series of dartings 
and doublings along a route which I had marked out 
in my mind— around a corner, up an alley, over the 
fences of two back yards that I had noted, into a small 
street, where I would change my soft, light-colored felt 
hat for a dark travelling-cap which I would have in 
my pocket ; then a rush into a crowded thorough- 
fare, and a leisurely walk home. But this scheme did 
not altogether please me. I would have better liked, 
in the dark hours of the morning, to climb a tree 
which stood before the jeweller’s shop, to go out on a 
limb until it bent down to the level of the transom 
window over the top of the door, to open this, slip in, 
pocket the brooch, climb up to the transom, listen, 
drop outside, and noiselessly glide away. 

I had entirely too many fancies of this kind, and, 
when away from my temptations, my mind was seri- 
ously troubled by the thoughts of the dangers to which 
I was exposed. This robber blood was making a dif- 
ferent man of me— a man who ran the risk of ending 
his life in a prison. I used to ponder for hours upon 
my alarming condition. Sometimes I thought of 
myself as another Mr. Hyde. But alas ! my case was 
worse than that. I was not sometimes good and some- 
times bad. I was under an evil influence which was 
steadfast and of increasing power, the effects of which, 
my reason told me, must be permanent. When a Chris- 
tian gentleman puts dacoit blood into his veins, there 
259 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


is no way of his getting it out again, except by letting 
out all of his blood— a remedy I did not fancy. How 
earnestly I wished Po Haney had been converted 
before he had been killed ! 

But had the robber chief repented and lived a 
proper life, he would not have been killed, and I 
would have had no knife with his blood on it, and my 
present physical perfection would never have come 
to me. When I looked upon the matter in this light, 
I asked myself whether I would have been satisfied 
had it been so, and I could not bring myself to answer 
yes. After all, it was my vanity that had brought 
this terrible peril upon me. Had I been contented 
with the little prick my knife had given me, I might 
have been no more than the active, healthy gentle- 
man I had always wished to be. But that foolish 
desire to shine in the athletic games had not only 
given me an excess of strength, but also the impulses 
of a jungle sneak. 

When troubled thus, my greatest relief was the 
society of Susan Mooney. The flow of her gentle soul 
was so unrippled that it seldom failed to soothe me. 
Feeling the great good she was to me, I now made up 
my mind to marry her, and it delighted me to think 
that, in so doing, I would not be troubled by the ordi- 
nary antecedents of matrimony. I would simply in- 
form her that she was to be my wife, then all she 
would have to do was to set herself to the task of get- 
ting ready for the ceremony. But I could not always 
avail myself of the soothings of Susan, and the agita- 
tions of my mind became more harassing and frequent. 

Early one evening I was sitting alone in my study, 
torn by a desire to take a long walk in the suburbs, 
260 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 

and restrained by a fear that if I did so I should be 
induced to forget that I was not a prowling dacoit. 
Suddenly I heard a cry below stairs. It was the voice 
of my dear Susan, in terror and pain. In ten seconds 
I had bounded down to the drawing-room, where, be- 
tween my two sisters, I found the fair Susan almost 
fainting, with one of her white hands reddened with 
her blood, and in her lap the knife that killed Po 
Haney. The situation was quickly explained. That 
afternoon Jenny had brought down the knife to show 
a visitor interested in such things, and now Susan had 
been playing with it, and had cut her finger ! 

The wound was not a serious one, and the sufferer 
was soon cared for and conducted to her room. I 
took the knife up-stairs, determined to lock it up se- 
curely. But, as I was about to replace it in its sheath, 
I noticed that the blade was discolored in several 
places with fresh blood— the blood of Susan, still 
moist. 

I sat for some ten minutes, earnestly gazing upon 
the knife-blade. What a contrast !— the blood of Po 
Haney, the blood of Susan Mooney. As I pondered, a 
thought, seemingly filled with the light of a coming 
salvation, dawned upon me. I bared my right arm, 
and with my penknife scratched the skin for a space 
of over an inch in diameter. On this I rubbed the 
moist blood of Susan, as much of it as I could get 
from the great knife-blade, and which exceeded in 
quantity that which I had obtained from the rust- 
spots. I trembled when this deed was finished. I did 
not dare to think what might happen, but I hoped. 

The next day my right arm was very sore, and I 
could not write. I felt assured that no one with 


261 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


dacoit blood in bis veins should be allowed to perform 
an operation of the nature of vaccination. As my 
disability, the cause of which I did not explain to any 
one, gave a reason for a little vacation, I went off to 
the Berkshire Hills. The gay season of Stockbridge 
and Lenox had not yet come to an end, and the life 
there interested me very much. It was a pleasant 
change. For years I had mingled very little in fash- 
ionable society. I met a good many friends and 
acquaintances, all glad to have me with them, and 
surprised as well as pleased at my willingness to enter 
into all the festive doings of the region. In fact, I 
agreed to whatever was proposed to me, except when 
two of my fellow-members of the athletic club asked 
me to join them in a long tramp. This I declined, 
mainly for the reason that they had planned to start 
very early in the morning before sunrise, and I would 
not give up the delightful and tranquillizing hours 
of sleep which immediately precede a late break- 
fast. 

At the close of the day after my return, I rode home 
from my office in a street-car. At the corner where I 
had been in the habit of expecting him, the stout 
German got in. There was an empty place next to 
me, large enough for an ordinary person, but not 
large enough for him. He came directly toward me, 
and endeavored to squeeze himself into the vacancy. 
As he did so, I moved as far as possible away from 
him, in order to give him the room he desired. 

That evening my sister Amelia took me aside. 
“Harry,” said she, “I have something very serious 
to say to you. Susan has had a letter from mother, 
begging her to stay here until her return. Now, this 
262 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


will keep her with us a month longer at least, and I 
think this is a very deplorable thing.” 

“Why so?” I asked. 

“Because it will give you an opportunity to carry 
on your absurd courtship of her, and that cannot fail 
to end in your marrying her, and I should like to 
know, Harry, what could be more deplorable than 
that? In fact, Jenny and I have made up our minds 
that we will not stand it. Mother may consent to live 
in the house with that simple Susan as your wife, but 
we never will.” 

“My dear sister,” said I, “you and Jenny need not 
trouble yourselves on that subject. I do not in the 
least desire to marry Susan Mooney. She is a good 
woman, very good, but she is not the sort of person I 
would want for a wife. I should think you could see 
that for yourselves. The life of a hard-working man 
like myself is monotonous enough without Susan. But 
now that you have spoken of marriage, I will say that 
I met two ladies, one in Stockbridge and the other at 
Lenox, either of whom would make me a good wife. 
I rather prefer the Lenox girl, Miss Camilla Sunder- 
land. Do you know her ? ” 

“Camilla Sunderland ! ” exclaimed my sister. “She 
is a leading belle, a dazzling star of the season. She 
goes everywhere, does everything, drives four-in-hand, 
plays tennis-matches, is devoted to balls, theatre-par- 
ties— why, my dear Harry, I should think you could 
not exist with a wife like that.” 

“Miss Sunderland,” said I, leaning back in a soft 
arm-chair, “would be just the wife I dream of. I am 
sure I prefer her to the lady at Stockbridge. I am 
not disposed, as you know, to take part, to any great 
263 


THE KNIFE THAT KILLED PO HANCY 


extent, in the exciting life of the fashionable world, 
but I should wish to feel that, through my wife, I had 
a part in it.” 

“Well ! ” exclaimed Amelia, “you may never get 
Camilla Sunderland, but I am truly glad that you 
have given up all thoughts of Susan. But, Harry, a 
very great change must have come over you. It was 
not long ago that you told me you wanted a wife who 
would tremble at your tread.” 

I made a gesture of languid disapprobation. “My 
dear girl,” said I, “I should despise a woman who 
would tremble at my tread. What I want is a wife 
who will guide, direct, and lead me, upon whom I 
can lean and depend ; and I think Miss Sunderland is 
such a woman.” 

Amelia stared at me in utter amazement. “I don’t 
understand you ! ” she cried. “You seem to have 
been utterly transformed, and to have lost all senti- 
ments of manliness ! If Susan Mooney were a man, I 
believe she would have very much the same feelings.” 

“My dear,” I answered, “Susan Mooney would make 
a very good man, a very pleasant and accommodating 
helpmeet to an active-minded woman.” 

To this remark Amelia made no answer, but casting 
a look of scorn upon me she departed. 

I have not yet married. Miss Sunderland has not 
signified to me that it would please her to accept my 
addresses, and, of course, I have not had the assurance 
to force the subject upon her. But I live in hopes. 

As for the knife that killed Po Haney, I threw it 
into the Charles River. It was a dangerous knife. 


264 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


* 



DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


IN TWO EXPOSITIONS 

FIRST EXPOSITION: A STORY OF SEVEN DEVILS 

T HE negro church which stood in the pine woods 
near the little village of Oxford Cross-roads, in 
one of the lower counties of Virginia, was presided 
over by an elderly individual, known to the commu- 
nity in general as “Uncle Pete.” But on Sundays the 
members of his congregation addressed him as “Brudder 
Pete.” He was an earnest and energetic man, and, 
although he could neither read nor write, he had for 
many years expounded the Scriptures to the satisfac- 
tion of his hearers. His memory was good, and those 
portions of the Bible which, from time to time, he had 
heard read, were used by him, and frequently with 
powerful effect, in his sermons. His interpretations 
of the Scriptures were generally entirely original, 
and were made to suit the needs, or what he supposed 
to be the needs, of his congregation. 

Whether as “Uncle Pete ” in the garden and corn- 
field, or as “Brudder Pete” in the church, he enjoyed 
the good opinion of everybody excepting one person, 
and that was his wife. She was a high-tempered and 
somewhat dissatisfied person, who had conceived the 
267 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


idea that her husband was in the habit of giving too 
much time to the church ; and too little to the acquisi- 
tion of corn-bread and pork. On a certain Saturday 
she gave him a most tremendous scolding, which so 
affected the spirits of the good man that it influenced 
his decision in regard to the selection of the subject 
for his sermon the next day. 

His congregation was accustomed to being aston- 
ished, and rather liked it, but never before had their 
minds received such a shock as when the preacher 
announced the subject of his discourse. He did not 
take any particular text, for this was not his custom, 
but he boldly stated that the Bible declared that 
every woman in this world was possessed by seven 
devils $ and the evils which this state of things had 
brought upon the world he showed forth with much 
warmth and feeling. Subject-matter, principally from 
his own experience, crowded in upon his mind, and 
he served it out to his audience hot and strong. If 
his deductions could have been proved to be correct, 
all women were creatures who, by reason of their 
sevenfold diabolic possession, were not capable of 
independent thought or action, and who should in 
tears and humility place themselves absolutely under 
the direction and authority of the other sex. 

When he approached the conclusion of his sermon, 
Brother Peter closed with a bang the Bible, which, 
although he could not read a word of it, always lay 
open before him while he preached, and delivered the 
concluding exhortation of his sermon. 

“Now, my dear brev’ren ob dis congregation,” he 
said, “I want you to understand dat dar’s nuffin in dis 
yer sarmon wot you’ve jus’ heerd ter make you think 
268 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


youse’fs angels. By no means, brevren. You was all 
brung up by women, an’ you’ve got ter lib wid ’em, 
an ef anything in dis yer worl’ is ketchin’, my dear 
brevren, it’s habin’ debbils, an’ from wot I’ve seen ob 
some ob de men ob dis worl’, I ’spec’ dey is persest ob 
’bout all de debbils dey got room fer. But de Bible 
don’ say nuflin p’intedly on de subjec’ ob de number 
ob debbils in man, an’ I ’spec’ dose dat’s got ’em— an’ 
we ought ter feel pow’ful thankful, my dear brevren, 
dat de Bible don’ say we-all’s got ’em— has ’em ’cordin’ 
to sarcumstances. But wid de women it’s dif’rent. 
Dey’s got jus’ seben, an’ bless my soul, brevren, I think 
dat’s ’nuf. 

“ While I was a- turnin’ ober in my min’ de subjec’ 
ob dis sarmon, dere come ter me a bit ob Scripter wot 
I heerd at a big preachin’ an’ baptizin’ at Kyarter’s 
Mills, ’bout ten year ago. One ob de preachers was 
a-tellin’ about ol’ Mudder Ebe a-eatin’ de apple, an’ 
says he : 1 De sarpint fus’ come along wid a red apple, 
an’ says he : “You gib dis yer ter yer husban’, an’ he 
think it so mighty good dat when he done eat it he 
gib you anything you ax him fer, ef you tell him whar 
de tree is.” Ebe she took one bite, an’ den she frew 
dat apple away. “Wot you mean, you triflin’ sarpint,” 
says she, “a-fotchin’ me dat apple wot ain’t good fer 
nuflin but ter make cider wid ? ” Den de sarpint he go 
fotch her a yaller apple, an’ she took one bite, an’ den 
says she : “Go ’long wid ye, you fool sarpint, wot you 
fotch me dat June apple wot ain’t got no taste to it? ” 
Den de sarpint he think she like sumpin’ sharp, an’ 
he fotch her a green apple. She takes one bite ob it, 
an’ den she frows it at his head, an’ sings out : “Is you 
’spectin’ me to gib dat apple to yer Uncle Adam an’ 
269 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


gib him de colic ?” Den de debbil he fotch her a 
lady-apple, but she say she won’t take no sich triflin’ 
nubbins as dat to her husban’, an’ she took one bite 
ob it, an’ frew it away. Den he go fotch her two 
udder kin’ ob apples, one yaller wid red stripes, an’ de 
udder one red on one side an’ green on de udder — 
mighty good-lookin’ apples, too, de kin’ you git two 
dollars a bar’l fer at de store. But Ebe she wouldn’t 
hab neider ob ’em, an’ when she done took one bite 
out ob each one, she frew it away. Den de ol’ debbil - 
sarpint he scratch he head, an’ he say to hese’f : “Dis 
yer Ebe she pow’ful ’tic’lar ’bout her apples. Reckin 
I’ll have ter wait till after fros’, an’ fotch her a 
real good one.” An’ he done wait till after fros’, an’ 
den he fotch her a’ Albemarle pippin, an’ when she 
took one bite ob dat, she jus’ go ’long an eat it all up, 
core, seeds, an’ all. “Look h’yar, sarpint,” says she, 
“hab you got anudder ob dem apples in yer pocket? ” 
An’ den he tuk one out, an’ gib it to her. “ ’Cuse me,” 
says she, “I’sgwine ter look up Adam, an’ ef he don’ 
want ter know whar de tree is wot dese apples grow 
on, you can hab him fer a corn-field han’.” ’ 

“An’ now, my dear brevren,” said Brother Peter, 
“while I was a-turnin’ dis subjec’ ober in my min’, an’ 
wonderin’ how de women come ter hab jus’ seben 
debbils apiece, I done reckerleck dat bit ob Scripter 
wot I heerd at Kyarter’s Mills, an’ I reckin dat ’splains 
how de debbils got inter woman. De sarpint he done 
fotch Mudder Ebe seben apples, an’ ebery one she take 
a bite out ob gib her a debbil.” 

As might have been expected, this sermon produced 
a great sensation, and made a deep impression on the 
congregation. As a rule the men were tolerably well 
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satisfied with it, and when the services were over 
many of them made it the occasion of shy but very 
plainly pointed remarks to their female friends and 
relatives. 

But the women did not like it at all. Some of them 
became angry, and talked very forcibly, and feelings 
of indignation soon spread among all the sisters of the 
church. If their minister had seen fit to stay at home 
and preach a sermon like this to his own wife (who, 
it may be remarked, was not present on this occasion), 
it would have been well enough, provided he had 
made no allusions to outsiders, but to come there and 
preach such things to them was entirely too much for 
their endurance. Each one of the women knew she 
had not seven devils, and only a few of them would 
admit of the possiblity of any of the others being pos- 
sessed by quite so many. 

Their preacher’s explanation of the manner in 
which every woman came to be possessed of just so 
many devils appeared to them of little importance. 
What they objected to was the fundamental doctrine 
of his sermon, which was based on his assertion that 
the Bible declared that every woman had seven devils. 
They were not willing to believe that the Bible said 
any such thing. Some of them went so far as to state 
it was their opinion that Uncle Pete had got this fool 
notion from some of the lawyers at the court-house 
when he was on a jury a month or so before. It was 
quite noticeable that, although Sunday afternoon had 
scarcely begun, the majority of the women of the con- 
gregation called their minister “Uncle Pete.” This was 
very strong evidence of a sudden decline in his popu- 
larity. 


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Some of the more vigorous-minded women, not see- 
ing their minister among the other people in the 
clearing in front of the log church, went to look for 
him. But he was not to be found. His wife had 
ordered him to be home early, and soon after the 
congregation had been dismissed he had departed by a 
short cut through the woods. That afternoon an 
irate committee, composed principally of women, but 
including also a few men who had expressed disbelief 
in the new doctrine, arrived at the cabin of their 
preacher, but found there only his wife, cross-grained 
old Aunt Rebecca. She informed them that her hus- 
band was not at home. 

“He’s done ’gaged hisse’f,” she said, “ter cut an’ 
haul wood fer Kunnel Martin, ober on Little Mount’ n, 
fer de whole ob nex’ week. It’s fourteen or thirteen 
mile from h’yar, an’ ef he’d started ter-morrer mawn- 
in’, he’d los’ a’mos’ a whole day. ’Sides dat, I done 
tol’ him dat ef he git dar ter-night he’d hab his 
supper fro wed in. Wot you all want wid him 1 ? 
Gwine to pay him fer preachin’ ! ” 

Any such intention as this was instantaneously de- 
nied, and Aunt Rebecca was informed of the sub- 
ject upon which her visitors had come to have a very 
plain talk with her husband. 

Strange to say, the announcement of the new and 
startling dogma had apparently no disturbing effect 
upon Aunt Rebecca. On the contrary, the old woman 
seemed rather to enjoy the news. 

“Reckin he oughter know all ’bout dat,” she said. 
“He’s done had three wives, an’ he ain’t got rid o’ 
dis one yit.” 

Judging from her chuckles and the waggings of her 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


head as she made this remark, it might have been 
imagined that Aunt Rebecca was rather proud of the 
fact that her husband thought her capable of ex- 
hibiting a different kind of diabolism every day in 
the week. 

The leader of the indignant church- members was 
Susan Henry, a mulatto woman of a very independent 
turn of mind. She prided herself that she never 
worked in anybody’s house but her own, and this im- 
munity from outside service gave her a certain pre- 
eminence among her sisters. Hot only did Susan share 
the general resentment with which the startling state- 
ment of old Peter had been received, but she felt that 
its promulgation had affected her position in the 
community. If every woman was possessed by seven 
devils, then, in this respect, she was no better nor 
worse than any of the others, and at this her proud 
heart rebelled. If the preacher had said some women 
had eight devils and others six, it would have been 
better. She might then have made a mental arrange- 
ment in regard to her relative position which would 
have consoled her somewhat. But now there was no 
chance for that. The words of the preacher had 
equally debased all women. 

A meeting of the disaffected church-members was 
held the next night at Susan Henry’s cabin, or rather 
in the little yard about it, for the house was not large 
enough to hold the people who attended it. The 
meeting was not regularly organized, but everybody 
said what he or she had to say, and the result was a 
great deal of clamor, and a general increase of indig- 
nation against TJncle Pete. 

“Look h’yar !” cried Susan, at the end of some en- 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


ergetic remarks, “is dar any pusson h’yar who kin 
count up figgers ? 77 

Inquiries on the subject ran through the crowd, and 
in a few moments a black boy, about fourteen, was 
pushed forward as an expert in arithmetic. 

“How, you Jim / 7 said Susan, “you’s been to school, 
an 7 you kin count up figgers. 7 Cordin 7 ter de ehu’ch- 
books dar 7 s forty-seben women b 7 longin 7 to our meet- 
in 7 , an 7 ef each one ob dem dar has got seben debbils 
in her, I jus 7 wants you ter tell me how many debbils 
come to chu 7 ch ebery clear Sunday ter hear dat ol 7 
Uncle Pete preach . 77 

This view of the case created a sensation, and much 
interest was shown in the result of Jim’s calculations, 
which were made by the aid of the back of an old letter 
and a piece of pencil, furnished by Susan. The result 
was at last announced as three hundred and nineteen 
—which, although not precisely correct, was near 
enough to satisfy the company. 

“How, you jus 7 turn dat ober in you-all’s minds , 77 
said Susan. “More’n free hunderd debbils in chu’ch 
ebery Sunday, an 7 we women fotchin 7 ’em. Does any- 
body s’pose I’s gwine ter b’lieve dat fool talk ! 77 

A middle-aged man now lifted up his voice and 
said : “I’s been thinkin 7 ober dis h’yar matter, an 7 I’s 
’eluded dat p’r’aps de words ob de preacher was used 
in a figgeratous form o’ sense. P’r’aps de seben deb- 
bils meant chillun.” 

These remarks were received with no favor by the 
assemblage. 

“Oh, you git out ! 77 cried Susan. “Yer ol 7 woman’s 
got seben chillun, shore 7 nuf, an 7 I ’spec 7 dey’s all deb- 
bils. But dem sent’ments don’t apply ter all de udder 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


women h’yar, ’tic’larly ter dem dar young uns wot 
ain’t married yit.” 

This was good logic, but the feeling on, the subject 
proved to be even stronger, for the mothers in the 
company became so angry at their children being con- 
sidered devils that for a time there seemed to be 
danger of an Amazonian attack on the unfortunate 
speaker. This was averted, but a great deal of uproar 
now ensued, and it was the general feeling that some- 
thing ought to be done to show the deep-seated resent- 
ment with which the horrible charge against the 
mothers and sisters of the congregation had been met. 
Many violent propositions were made, some of the 
younger men going so far as to offer to burn down the 
church. It was finally agreed, quite unanimously, that 
old Peter should be unceremoniously ousted from his 
place in the pulpit, which he had filled for so many years. 

As the week passed on, some of the older men of 
the congregation, who had friendly feelings toward 
their old companion and preacher, talked the matter 
over among themselves, and afterwards, with many 
of their fellow-members, succeeded at last in gaining 
the general consent that Uncle Peter should be allowed 
a chance to explain himself, and to give his grounds 
and reasons for his astounding statement in regard to 
womankind. If he could show biblical authority for 
this, of course nothing more could be said. But if he 
could not, then he must get down from the pulpit, 
and sit for the rest of his life on a back seat of the 
church. This proposition met with the more favor 
because even, those who were most indignant had an 
earnest curiosity to know what the old man would 
say for himself. 


275 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


During all this time of angry discussion, good old 
Peter was quietly and calmly cutting and hauling 
wood on Little Mountain. His mind was in a con- 
dition of great comfort and peace, for not only had 
he been able to rid himself, in his last sermon, of 
many of the hard thoughts concerning women that 
had been gathering themselves together for years, 
but his absence from home had given him a holiday 
from the harassments of Aunt Rebecca’s tongue, so 
that no new notions of woman’s culpability had risen 
within him. He had dismissed the subject altogether, 
and had been thinking over a sermon regarding bap- 
tism, which he thought he could make convincing to 
certain of the younger members of his congregation. 

He arrived at home very late on Saturday night, 
and retired to his simple couch without knowing any- 
thing of the terrible storm which had been gathering 
through the week, and which was to burst upon him 
on the morrow. But the next morning, long before 
church-time, he received warning enough of what 
was going to happen. Individuals and deputations 
gathered in and about his cabin— some to tell him all 
that had been said and done, some to inform him what 
was expected of him, some to stand about and look at 
him, some to scold, some to denounce, but, alas ! not 
one to encourage, nor one to call him “Brudder Pete,” 
that Sunday appellation dear to his ears. But the 
old man possessed a stubborn soul, not easily to be 
frightened. 

“Wot I says in de pulpit,” he remarked, “I’ll ’splain 
in de pulpit, an’ you-all ’u’d better git ’long to de 
chu’ch, an’ when de time fer de sarvice come, I’ll be 
dar.” 


276 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


This advice was not promptly acted upon, but in 
the course of half an hour nearly all the villagers and 
loungers had gone off to the church in the woods. 
And when Uncle Peter had put on his high black hat, 
somewhat battered, but still sufficiently clerical-look- 
ing for that congregation, and had given something of 
a polish to his cowhide shoes, he betook himself by 
the accustomed path to the log building where he had 
so often held forth to his people. As soon as he en- 
tered the church he was formally instructed by a com- 
mittee of the leading members that before he began to 
open the services, he must make it plain to the con- 
gregation that what he had said on the preceding 
Sunday about every woman being possessed by seven 
devils was Scripture truth, and not mere wicked non- 
sense out of his own brain. If he could not do that, 
they wanted no more praying or preaching from him. 

Uncle Peter made no answer, but, ascending the 
little pulpit, he put his hat on the bench behind him, 
where it was used to repose, took out his red cotton 
handkerchief and blew his nose in his accustomed 
way, and looked about him. The house was crowded. 
Even Aunt Kebecca was there. 

After a deliberate survey of his audience, the 
preacher spoke : “Brevren an’ sisters, I see afore me 
Brudder Bill Hines, who kin read de Bible, an’ has 
got one. Ain’t dat so, brudder ?” 

Bill Hines having nodded and modestly grunted 
assent, the preacher continued : “An’ dar’s Aun’ 
Priscilla’s boy Jake, who ain’t a brudder yit,— though 
he’s plenty old ’nuf, min’, I tell ye,— an’ he kin read 
de Bible fus’-rate, an’ has read it ter me ober an’ ober 
ag’in. Ain’t dat so, Jake?” 

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Jake grinned, nodded, and hung his head, very un- 
comfortable at being thus publicly pointed out. 

“An’ dar’s good ol’ Aun 7 Patty, who knows more 
Scripter dan anybuddy h’yar, havin’ been teached 
by de little gals from Kunnel Jasper’s, an’ by dere 
mudders afore ’em. I reckin she know de hull Bible 
straight froo, from de Garden of Eden to de New 
Jerus’lum. An’ dar are udders h’yar who knows de 
Scrip ters, some one part an’ some anudder. Now, I 
axes ebery one ob you-all wot know de Scripters ef 
he don’ ’member how de Bible tells how our Lord, 
when he was on dis yearth, cas’ seben debbils out o’ 
Mary Magdalum 9 ” 

A murmur of assent came from the congregation. 
Most of them remembered that. 

“But did any ob you eber read, or hab read to 
you, dat he eber cas’ ’em out o’ any udder woman 9 ” 

Negative grunts and shakes of the head signified 
that nobody had ever heard of this. 

“Well, den,” said the preacher, gazing blandly 
around, “all de udder women’s got ’em yit.” 

A deep silence fell upon the assembly, and in a few 
moments an elderly member arose. “Brudder Pete,” 
he said, “I reckin you mought as well gib out de 
hyme.” 

SECOND EXPOSITION: GRANDISON’S QUANDARY 

Grandison Pratt was a colored man of about thirty, 
who, with his wife and two or three children, lived in 
a neat log cabin in one of the Southern States. He 
was a man of an independent turn of mind, and he 
much desired to own the house in which he lived and 


278 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


the small garden-patch around it. This valuable 
piece of property belonged to Mr. Morris, and as it 
was an outlying corner of his large farm, he had no 
objection to selling it to Grandison, provided the latter 
could pay for it, but of this he had great doubts. The 
man was industrious enough, but he often seemed to 
have a great deal of difficulty about paying the very 
small rental charged for his place, and Mr. Morris, 
consequently, had well-grounded doubts about his 
ability to purchase it. 

“But, sah,” said Grandison, one day, when these 
objections had been placed before him, “I’s been 
turnin’ dis thing ober in my min’ ober an’ ober. I 
know jes how much I kin make, an’ how much I’s got 
to spend, an’ how I kin save ter buy de house, an’ if 
I agree to pay you so much money on such a day, an’ 
so much on such anudder day, I’s gwine ter do it. 
You kin jes put dat down, sah, for sartin shuh.” 

“Well, Grandison,” said Mr. Morris, “I’ll give you 
a trial. If, at the end of six months, you can pay me 
the first instalment, I’ll have the necessary papers 
made out, and you can go on and buy the place, but 
if you are not up to time on the first payment, I want 
to hear no more about the purchase.” 

“All right, Mahs’r Morris,” said Grandison. “If I 
gibs you my word ter pay de money on de fus’ day ob 
October, I’s gwine ter do it. Dat’s sartin shuh.” 

Months passed on, and, although Grandison worked 
as steadily as usual, he found, toward the end of Sep- 
tember, that, in the ordinary course of things, he 
would not be able to make up the sum necessary for 
the first payment. Other methods, out of the ordinary 
course, came into his mind, but he had doubts about 
279 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


availing himself of them. He was extremely anxious 
to make up the amount due, for he knew very well 
that if he did not pay it on the day appointed he 
might bid farewell to his hope of becoming a free- 
holder. In his perplexity he resolved to consult 
Brother ’Bijah, the minister of the little church in 
the pine woods to which Grandison belonged. 

“Now, look-a-heah, Brudder ’Bijah,” said he, “wot’s 
I gwine ter do ’bout dis bizness ? I done promised ter 
pay dis money on de fus’ day ob de cornin’ month, an’ 
dar’s six dollars ob it dat I ain’t got yit.” 

“An’ ain’t dar any way ter git it?” asked ’Bijah. 

“Yaas, dar’s one way,” said Grandison. “I’s been 
turnin’ dis matter ober an’ ober in my min’, an’ dar’s 
only one way. I mought sell apples. Apples is 
mighty skarse dis fall, an’ I kin git two dollars a bar’l 
fer ’em in town. Now, if I was ter sell three bar’ls of 
apples I’d hab dat dar six dollars, sartin shuh. Don’ 
you see dat, Brudder ’Bijah?” 

“Dat’s all cl’ar ’nuf,” said the minister, “but whar 
you gwine ter git three bar’ls o’ apples? You don’ 
mean ter tell me dat you’s got ’nuf apple-trees in 
your little gyardin fer ter shake down three bar’ls o’ 
apples ! ” 

“Now look-a-heah, Brudder ’Bijah,” said Grandison, 
his eyes sparkling with righteous indignation, “dat’s 
too much ter ’spec’ ob a man who’s got ter work all 
day ter s’port his wife an’ chillun. I digs, an’ I ploughs, 
an’ I plants, an’ I hoes. But all dem things ain’t ’nuf 
ter make apple-trees grow in my gyardin like as dey 
was corn-field peas.” 

“Dat’s so,” said ’Bijah, reflectively. “Dat’s too 
280 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


much ter ’spec’ ob any man. But how’s you gwine ter 
sell de apples, if you ain’t got ’em ? ” 

“I’s got ter git ’em,” said Grandison. “Dar’s apples 
’nuf growin’ roun,’ an’ not so fer away dat I can’t tote 
’em ter my house in a bahsket. It’s pow’ful hard on 
a man wot’s worked all day ter have ter tote apples 
ahfter night, but dar ain’t no udder way ob gittin’ dat 
dar money.” 

“I ’spec’ de orchard whar you’s thinkin’ o’ gwine is 
Mahs’r Morris’s,” said the minister. 

“You don’ s’pose I’s gwine ter any ob dose low- 
down orchards on de udder side de creek, does ye? 
Mahs’r Morris has got de bes’ apples in dis county. 
Dat’s de kin’ wot fetch two dollars a bar’l.” 

“Brudder Gran’son,” said ’Bijah, solemnly, “is you 
min’ runnin’ on takin’ Mahs’r Morris’s apples inter 
town an’ sellin’ ’em ? ” 

“Well, he gits de money, don’t he?” answered the 
other, “an’ if I don’ sell his apples, ’taint no use sellin’ 
none. Dem udder little nubbins roun’ heah won’t 
fetch no two dollars a bar’l.” 

“Dem ain’t justify in’ deeds wot’s runnin’ in your 
mind,” said ’Bijah. “Dey ain’t justifyin’.” 

“Ob course,” said Grandison, “dey wouldn’t be 
justifyin’ if I had de six dollars. But I ain’t got 
’em, an’ I’s promised ter pay ’em. How, is I ter stick 
ter de truf, or isn’t I ? ” 

“Truf is mighty,” said the preacher, “an’ ought not 
ter be hendered from prevailin’.” 

“Dat’s so ! dat’s so ! ” exclaimed Grandison. “You 
can’t go ag’in’ de Scripters. Truf is mighty, an’ ’tain’t 
fer pore human critters like us ter try ter upsot her. 

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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 

Wot we’re got ter do is ter stick ter her through thick 
an’ thin.” 

“Ob course, dat’s wot we oughter do,” said ’Bijah, 
“but I can’t see my way cl’ar ter you sellin’dem apples.” 

“But dar ain’t nuffin else ter do ! ” exclaimed Gran- 
dison, “an’ ef I don’t do dat, away goes de truf, cl’ar 
out o’ sight. An’ wot sort o’ ’ligion you call dat, 
Brudder ’Bijah?” 

“’Tain’t no kind at all,” said ’Bijah, “fer we’s 
bound ter stick ter de truf, which is de bottom corner- 
stone ob piousness. But dem apples don’t seem ter 
git demselves straightened out in my min’, Brudder 
Gran’son.” 

“It ’pears ter me, Brudder ’Bijah, dat you don’ 
look at dem apples in de right light. If I was gwine 
ter sell ’em ter git money ter buy a lot o’ spotted cali- 
ker ter make frocks fer de chillun, or eben ter buy two 
pa’rs o’ shoes fer me an’ Judy ter go ter church in, dat 
would be a sin, sartin shuh. But you done fergit dat 
I’s gwine ter take de money ter Mahs’r Morris. If 
apples is riz, an’ I gits two dollars an’ a quarter a 
bar’l, ob course I keeps de extry quarter, which don’ 
pay anyhow fer de trouble ob pickin’ ’em. But de 
six dollars I gibs, cash down, ter Mahs’r Morris. Don’ 
you call dat puffectly fa’r an’ squar’, Brudder ’Bijah? ” 

’Bijah shook his head. “Dis is a mighty dubersome 
question, Brudder Gran’son— a mighty dubersome 
question.” 

Grandison stood with a disappointed expression on 
his countenance. He greatly desired to gain from 
his minister sanction for the financial operation he 
had proposed. But this the solemn ’Bijah did not 
appear prepared to give. As the two men stood 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


together by the roadside, they saw, riding toward 
them, Mr. Morris himself. 

“Now, den,” exclaimed Grandison, “heah comes 
Malls’ r Morris, an’ I’s gwine ter put dis question to 
hisse’f. He oughter know how ter ’cide ’bout it, if 
anybody does.” 

“You ain’t truly gwine ter put dat question ter him, 
is ye?” asked ’Bijah, quickly. 

“No, sah,” replied the other. “I’s gwine ter put 
the case on a dif’rent show-p’int. But ’twill be the 
same thing as de udder.” 

Mr. Morris was a genial-natured man, who took a 
good deal of interest in his negro neighbors, and was 
fond of listening to their peculiar humor. Therefore, 
when he saw that Grandison wished to speak to him 
he readily pulled up his horse. 

“Mahs’r Morris,” said Grandison, removing his hat, 
“Br udder ’Bijah an’ me has been argyin’ on de subjick 
ob truf. An jes as you was cornin’ up I was gwine 
ter tell him a par’ble ’bout stickin’ ter truf. An’ if 
you’s got time, Mahs’r Morris, I’d be pow’ful glad ter 
tell you de par’ble, an’ let you ’cide ’tween us.” 

“Very well,” said Mr. Morris, “go on with your 
parable.” 

“Dis yer par’ble,” said Grandison, “has got a jus- 
tifyin’ meanin’ in it, an’ it’s ’bout a b’ar an’ a possum. 
De possum he was a-gwine out early in de mawnin’ 
ter git a little corn fer his breakfus’— ” 

“Very wrong in the opossum,” said Mr. Morris, “for 
I am sure he hadn’t planted any corn.” 

“Well, den, sah,” said Grandison, “p’r’aps ’twas 
akerns. But, anyway, afore he was out ob de woods he 
see a big ol’ b’ar a-comin’ straight ’long ter him. De 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


possum he ain’t got no time ter climb a tree an’ git 
out on de leetlest end ob a long limb, an’ so he lay 
hese’f flat down on de groun’ an’ make b’lieve he’s 
dead. When de ol’ b’ar came up he sot down an’ look 
at de possum. Fus’ he turn his head on one side, an’ 
den he turn his head on de udder, but he look at de 
possum all de time. D’rec’ly he gits done lookin’, an’ 
he says : 1 Look-a-heah, possum, is you dead or is you 
libin’ ? If you’s dead I won’t eat you, fer I neber eats 
dead critters, but if you’s libin’, den I eats you fer my 
breakfus’, fer I is b’ilin’ hungry, not havin’ had nuflin 
sence sun-up but a little snack dat I took afore I gwine 
out inter de damp air ob de mawnin’. Now, den, 
possum, speak out an’ tell me, is you ’libe or is you 
dead?’ 

“Dat are question frew de possum inter a pow’ful 
sweat. If he told de truf an’ said he was alibe, he 
knowed well ’nuf dat de b’ar would gobble him up 
quicker ’n if he’d been a hot ash-cake an’ a bowl ob 
buttermilk. But if he said he was dead, so ’s de b’ar 
wouldn’t eat him, de b’ar, like ’nuf, would know he 
lied, an’ would eat him all de same. So he turn de 
matter ober an’ ober in his min’, an’ he wrastled wid 
his ’victions, but he couldn’t come ter no ’elusion. 
1 Now, don’ you t’ink,’ said de b’ar, ‘dat I’s got time to 
sit here de whole mawnin’, waitin’ fer you ter make up 
your min’ whether you’s dead or not. If you don’t 
’cide pretty quick, I’ll put a big rock atop o’ you, an’ 
stop fer you answer when I come back in de ebenin’.’ 
Now, dis gib de possum a pow’ful skeer, an’ ’twas el’ar 
ter his min’ dat he mus’ ’cide de question straight off. 
If he tol’ de truf, an’ said he was alibe, he’d be eat 
up shuh, but if he said he was dead, de b’ar mought 
284 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


b’lieve him. ’Twarn’t very likely dat he would, but 
dar was dat one leetle chance, an 7 he done took it. ‘ I 
is dead , 7 says he. ‘ You 7 s a long time makin 7 up your 
min 7 7 bout it , 7 says de b 7 ar. ‘How long you been 
dead ? 7 ‘Sence day 7 fore yestidday , 7 says de possum. 
‘All right ! 7 says de b 7 ar, ‘when dey 7 ve on 7 y been 
dead two or free days, an 7 kin talk, I eats 7 em all de 
same . 7 An 7 he eat him up . 77 

“And now, Grandison , 77 said Mr. Morris, “where is 
the moral of that parable ? 77 

“De moral is dis , 77 said Grandison : “Stick ter de 
truf. If de possum had tol 7 de truf, an 7 said he was 
alibe, de b 7 ar couldn 7 t eat him no more 7 n he did eat 
him— no b 7 ar could do dat. An 7 I axes you, Mahs 7 r 
Morris, don 7 dat par 7 ble show dat eb 7 rybody oughter 
stick ter de truf, no matter what happens ? 77 

“Well, I don’t think your moral is very clear , 77 said 
Mr. Morris, “for it would have been about as bad for 
the possum one way as the other. But, after all, it 
would have been better for the little beast to tell the 
truth and die with a clear conscience . 77 

“Dat 7 s so ! 77 cried Brother 7 Bijah, speaking in his 
ministerial capacity. “De great thing in dis worl 7 is ter 
die wid a clear conscience . 77 

“But you can’t do dat , 77 said Grandison, “if you let 
dis thing an 7 dat thing come in ter hinder ye. How, 
dat’s jes wot we’s been disputin’ ’bout, Mahs’r Morris. 
I ’dared dat we oughter stick ter de truf widout 
lookin’ ter de right or de lef 7 . But Brudder ’Bijah, his 
min’ wasn’t quite made up on de subjick. How, wot 
you say, Mahs’r Morris ? 77 

“I say stick to the truth, of course,” said Mr. Morris, 
gathering up his reins. “And, by the way, Grandison, 
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DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


do you expect to make that payment on your place 
which is due next week ? ” 

“Yaas, sah, sartin shuh,” said Grandison. “I done 
tol ? you I’d do it, Mahs’r Morris, an 7 I ’tends ter stick 
ter de truf. 

“Now, den,” continued Grandison, in a tone of tri- 
umph, when Mr. Morris had ridden away, “you see I’s 
right in my ’elusions, and Mahs’r Morris ’grees with me.” 

“Dunno,” said Brother ’Bijah, shaking his head. 
“Dis is a mighty dubersome question. You kep’ dem 
apples el’ar out o’ sight, Brudder Gran’son— el’ar out 
o’ sight.” 

It was about a week after this, quite early in the 
morning, that Grandison was slowly driving into town 
with a horse and a wagon which he had borrowed 
from a neighbor. In the wagon were three barrels of 
fine apples. Suddenly, at a turn in the road, he was 
greatly surprised to meet Mr. Morris, riding home- 
ward. 

“What have you in those barrels, Grandison?” in- 
quired his landlord. 

“Dey’s apples, sah,” was the reply, “dat I’s got de 
job ob haulin’ ter town, sah.” 

Mr. Morris rode up to the wagon, and removed the 
piece of old canvas that was thrown over the tops of 
the barrels. There was no need of asking any ques- 
tions. No one but himself, for many miles around, 
had “Belle-flowers” and “Jeannettes” like these. 

“How much do you lack, Grandison,” he said, “of 
making up the money you owe me to-morrow? ” 

“Six dollars, sah,” said Grandison. 

“Six dollars— three barrels. Very good,” said Mr. 

286 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


Morris. “I see you are determined to stick to the 
truth, Grandison, and keep your engagement. But I 
will trouble you to turn that wagon round and haul 
those apples to my house. And if you still want to 
buy the place, you can come on Monday morning and 
work out the balance you have to make up on the 
first instalment, and, after this, you can make all your 
payments in work. A day’s labor is fair and plain, 
but your ways of sticking to the truth are very 
crooked.” 

It was not long after this that Grandison was plough- 
ing in one of Mr. Morris’s fields, when Brother ’Bijah 
came along and sat upon the fence. 

“Brudder Gran’son,” said he, when the ploughman 
had reached the end of the furrow and was preparing 
to turn, “jes you let your hoss res’ a minnit till I tells 
you a par’ble.” 

“Wot par’ble?” said Grandison, in a tone of uncon- 
cern, but stopping his horse, all the same. 

“Why, dis one,” said ’Bijah. “Bar was an ol’ 
mule, an’ he b’longed ter a cullud man named Harris, 
who used ter carry de mail from de coht-house ter 
Cary’s Cross-roads. De ol’ mule was a pow’ful triflin’ 
critter, an’ he got lazier an’ lazier, an’ ’fore long he 
got so dreffle slow dat it tuk him more’n one day ter 
go from de coht-house ter de cross-roads, an’ he allers 
come in de day ahfter mail- day, when de people was 
done gone home. So de cullud man Harris he says : 
‘You is too ol’ fer ter carry de mail, you triflin’ 
mule, an’ I hain’t got no udder use fer you.’ 

“ So he put him in a gully-field, whar dar was nuffin 
but bar’ groun’ an’ hogweed. Now, dar was nuffin in 
dis worl’ dat triflin’ mule hated so much as hogweed, 
287 


DUSKY PHILOSOPHY 


an* he says ter hese’f : ‘I’s boun 7 ter do somefin 7 better’n 
dis fer a libin. 7 I reckin HI go skeer dat oY Harris, 
an 7 make him gib me a feed o’ corn. 7 So he jump ober 
de fence, fer he was spry 7 nuf when he had a min 7 ter, 
an 7 he steals an ol 7 b’arskin dat he 7 d seen hangin 7 up 
in de store po’ch, an 7 he pretty nigh kivered himse’f 
all up wid it. Den he go down ter de pos 7 -office, whar 
de mail had jes come in. When dis triflin 7 ol 7 mule 
seed de cullud man Harris sittin 7 on de bottom step 
ob de po 7 ch, he begin to kick up his heels an 7 make 
all de noise he could wid he mouf. ‘ Wot 7 s dat? 7 cried 
de cullud man Harris. ‘I 7 s a big grizzly b 7 ar, 7 said de 
mule, Escaped from de 7 nagerie when 7 twas fordin 7 
Scott 7 s Creek. 7 ‘When did you git out? 7 said de 
cullud man Harris. ‘I bus 7 from de cage at half-pas 7 
free o’clock dis ebenin 7 . 7 ‘An 7 is you reely a grizzly 
b 7 ar? 7 ‘Dat’s de truf, 7 said de triflin 7 mule, ‘an 7 I 7 s 
pow’ful hungry, an 7 if you don 7 go git me a feed o 7 
corn I 7 11 swaller you down whole. 7 An 7 he begun to 
roar as like a grizzly b 7 ar as he knew how. ‘Dat all 
de truf you tellin 7 me? 7 de cullud man Harris ask. 

‘ Dat’s all true as I 7 s libin 7 , 7 says de triflin’ mule. ‘All 
right, den, 7 says de cullud man Harris, ‘if you kin 
come from de ford on Scott’s Creek in a hour an 7 a 
half, you kin carry de mail jes as well as any udder 
mule, an 7 I’s gwine ter buy a big cart- whip, an 7 make 
you do it. So take off dat b’arskin, an 7 come ’long 
wid me. 7 So you see, Brudder Gran’son,” continued 
’Bijah, “dar’s difrent kinds ob truf, an 7 you’s got ter 
be mighty ’tic’lar wot kind you sticks ter. 77 

“Git up,” said Grandison to his drowsy horse, as he 
started him on another furrow. 


288 






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